Here we go again
by Basil Allegri
Summary: Time-travel fic. Merlin, as court sorcerer, gets himself stuck in the body of his nineteen-year-old self, and he finds that he'll have to relive his life if he's to have any chance of finding a way home. That doesn't mean he'll have to do things exactly as he remembers them. "Cut it, Kilgharrah. I already know my destiny." AU S05E10 "The Kindness of Strangers" On Hiatus
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I don't own ****_Merlin_**

A/N: I saw this done with Harry Potter and thought it would be fun to try with Merlin.

There won't really be romance in this, so don't expect any.

This takes place about 18 years after the end of series 5.

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><p>A troubled woman tossed in her bed, muttering under her breath.<p>

_A sword pierced the chest of the man in front of her and he crumpled into dust, like they all would eventually. The grating metal and sickening smells of the battle around her made her feel slightly nauseous. Funny – she would've thought she'd have been used to the stench of death. She wished she would come awake._

_The vision shifted._

_Morgana, dressed in a nightgown, stormed into the physician's chambers, her heels clicking urgently against the stone floor. Merlin was the only person in the room – he was lounging in a chair, reading, with his legs propped up on the table._

_Apparently he was finding his book very absorbing because he didn't look up until she asked loudly and rather desperately, "Is Gaius here?"_

"_Nope," he said, turning the page._

_Morgana walked up next to him, murmuring urgently, "I need to speak to him; where is he?"_

"_Apparently Uther's requested his presence," Merlin said dully. Then he looked up at her, an enormous sigh accompanying his gaze. "What's wrong?"_

_The dreamer watched herself turn away from the servant boy, looking pitifully scared._

"_You're worried about the fire, aren't you?" Merlin piped up._

_Morgana stiffened, then turned back to face the traitor of a sorcerer, looking anxious. "I'm scared, Merlin," she admitted, her voice cracking. "Everything I've known... I don't understand anything anymore."_

"_Really?" Merlin asked incredulously. He slammed the book closed with a bang, swinging his legs to the floor in sync with his tone. "I would have thought everything was painfully obvious." There was a hard edge to his voice._

"_What?" Morgana asked._

_Merlin tilted his head at her. "Are you _trying _to be as idiotic as Arthur?" he asked in a semi-serious tone, his eyebrows raised._

"_I beg your pardon?" she said, an angry note creeping into her voice._

_Merlin pushed himself to a standing position. "You aren't denying it," he sounded triumphant._

_Morgana gave the boy a shove. He barely moved. "I am most certainly _not _an idiot. How dare you call me such!"_

_Merlin didn't seem fazed by her sudden flair of temper. "Morgana, you've been having prophetic visions for... how many years? And you're just _now _figuring out that you have __magic?"_

With a gasp, a very befuddled Morgan le Fay awoke, her sightless eyes burning a vivid gold.

Morgan closed her eyes and reopened them slowly; they faded back to their normal hazel. Her dreary canopy was curtaining above her, exactly as it had been when she fell asleep.

Unlike most of her prophetic nightmares, that had not been a dream of the future. The girl in the dream had her old, flowing locks, while Morgan's once-raven hair was flushed with gray, a side-effect to aging she hadn't bothered to amend.

Still, the dream wasn't of the _past_ either. Morgan remembered the day Emrys had refused his help with vivid clarity, and that was most definitely not the order of events. Back then, the foolish boy would have never been so brazen.

But it wasn't of the future. Was it?

But it was definitely a prophecy.

Morgan stared at the crossbeams above her, the pattern of the woodwork etching into her retinas. The maze of new thoughts would keep her awake until the sun rose.

O o O

Merlin cleared his throat loudly.

No one at the table paid any attention. Normally Arthur might have acknowledged him, but Guinevere had captured his full attention.

The warlock narrowed his eyes.

A flash of gold later and the feast in front of them had transformed into various bouquets of flowers. The pheasant had become a bundle of rather lovely tulips (Merlin found himself rather pleased with the result, failing to hide the smug grin that overwhelmed his features).

Arthur took a bite of lavender before he realized what had happened.

"Merlin!" he spluttered, pulling purple flowers from his tongue. He turned and glared at the warlock.

"Sorry," Merlin said, not looking sorry at all. "I had to get your attention."

Arthur spat out the last of the flower and asked, annoyed, "What's wrong with just saying my name?"

"I did," Merlin sniffed. "I also banged on the table, coughed, _and_ cleared my throat."

"...Plus I kicked you," he added as an afterthought.

"And here I was thinking you did it on accident," Arthur said, rolling his eyes. "All right, then, what is it?"

"Do I have everyone's attention?" Merlin asked loudly. There were murmurs up and down the table from the various knights and nobles. Most of them were grumbling that they wanted their food back. "After my announcement," Merlin assured them.

"Right. So, it would probably be a _very_ good idea if no one came down to my experiment room after dinner... for the entire night."

"What are you doing this time?" Arthur asked blandly. "Does whatever it is come from that magic book that took you six whole months to retrieve?"

"Erm, yes."

"Is it dangerous?"

"Kind of."

"What are the chances that you'll die?"

"Two percent. Tops," Merlin promised. "Or I might end up trapped in an alternate shadow universe and _then_ I die."

Arthur stared.

"I'm trying out time travel," Merlin explained.

Guinevere frowned.

"Erm… _Why_?" Arthur questioned, looking unimpressed.

"Don't look at me like that!" Merlin scowled. "It's a brilliant piece of magic! If I actually manage to work it out, it will be for information-gathering purposes only. Wouldn't want to accidentally ruin the time-space continuum," Merlin added thoughtfully.

Arthur raised his eyebrows.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "I'm not _going_ to," he scoffed. "Have a little faith, Arthur."

"If this is like the dog incident…" Arthur trailed off warningly, lowering his voice slightly. They had technically vowed to never again speak of the dreaded incident.

A bout of sniggers erupted from across the table, and Merlin turned to glare at the source (Gwaine was going to find himself bald one day) before turning his sour gaze on his king, who was blinking innocently in the court sorcerer's direction.

"It won't be," the warlock promised. He hoped.

Arthur stared at Merlin for a long moment.

"So no one is to go near your chambers then?" Arthur finally asked. Mostly he was just glad that Merlin's long obsession with the archaic magic book was almost over. It had caused Merlin to develop the nasty habit of forgetting to feed himself whenever he was in the middle of working on one of its ancient, time-consuming spells, and Arthur found himself frustrated by the increasing lack of his friend's presence.

"That would be conveniently safe," Merlin admitted.

Arthur looked at everyone present. "Everyone got that? No one is to go near the court sorcerer's experiment room until further notice!" the king proclaimed loudly. "Spread the word."

Everyone bowed their heads in acknowledgment.

"There you are, Merlin," Arthur said, lips pressed together. "Now would you _please_ bring back our food!"

Merlin sighed out in relief, watching everyone tuck back into their meals. Good. Now that there weren't going to be any distractions, the spell was bound to work out nicely.


	2. Enter Merlin

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

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><p>Merlin awoke with a banging headache.<p>

"Oooh," he moaned, and sat up. He stared.

He was in the middle of the forest, lying on a bed roll, with a burnt-out campfire ten feet away. Smoke was still puffing from the dimming embers. It would have been a normal enough situation – he'd had to camp by himself plenty of times on his journeys to see various druid camps – but last time he checked, it was autumn, _not_ early spring.

"Um..." he looked around. What had gone wrong?

A wave of nails drove themselves through his skull. Wincing with the pain, Merlin clutched his head and tried to focus.

The last thing he remembered... he had been trying out that spell.

Oh. The time travel spell. Should Merlin take this as a sign that his experimentations had worked? Merlin looked around himself again, this time more slowly, at the brown, naked trees. Obviously some sort of time travel had taken place, along with a relocation spell, if the lack of the castle was anything to go by.

Merlin slapped his forehead, trying to get rid of the throbbing.

What now?

Another wave of pain bowled through his forehead and he decided that the first order of business would be to get rid of his blasted headache.

Hopefully it wasn't magically based – those had to go away by themselves.

"_Áblinn héafodece_," he muttered slowly. He could perform most spells without an incantation, but after he'd accidentally turned Percival's skin blue while trying to heal third-degree burns, he'd decided that it was probably best to do healing spells verbally.

To his utmost relief, the headache dulled, even if it didn't leave him completely. He could think straight.

Merlin frowned, pouring over his last memories of the workroom.

He'd read the spell and a plume of _orange_ smoke had puffed up around him. Orange. Not good, not good... the smoke was supposed to be purple. He pounded the ground in frustration. Had he pronounced a word wrong? That was completely possible – the new book had been written in an archaic language of magic, with only a few recognizable words every other page. The thing _was_ ancient after all. But as soon as he'd discovered the translation pitfall he'd taken it upon himself to study practically every aspect of old language... or so he thought anyways.

He sniffed. If everything had gone right (which was doubtful, by the look of things) he should be able to get back by muttering, "_Fulfære __æt__ húswist andweardnes_."

Nothing happened.

"Well this is just brilliant!" he shouted out at the forest. "I don't suppose I'll ever be allowed get it right the first time?"

A breeze whistled through the trees, mocking his incompetence.

"I've already learned my life lessons! So stop giving them! Because I don't want any more!"

No one answered back, not even his echo. At least Arthur would've had the decency to insult him.

Merlin sighed, shoulders drooping into a slouch. Arthur... Arthur was going to _murder_ him. If Gwen didn't get to him first. He had to admit though, the royal couple would be the least of his worries if Freya ever found out. Just brilliant.

So now what? First of all, he would need to take a look at that book, to see what he'd done wrong. Hopefully he wasn't further back than several years – several months would be even more convenient.

The first logical step was obviously to find Camelot. If Arthur, or even himself were there, he'd have a much higher chance of making it back home without too much of an incident. Merlin closed his eyes for a moment and entered the sea of familiar magic. He opened his his eyes as he recognized the feel of Camelot's magic, the city built by a sorcerer. It was only a few miles to the west.

Feeling much more reassured, Merlin rolled up his sleeping pad, stuffed it into the backpack lying by the fire, and threw the whole thing over his shoulder. To his amusement, he found that he was back to wearing the old clothes he used to wear as Arthur's manservant. Neckerchief and all. Magic really was quirky sometimes, he thought with a grin. His change in apparel left him wallowing in old memories for several miles before the whole situation struck him as odd – odder than normal, anyways. What did this picture remind him of?

"Just get to Camelot," he muttered to himself.

Camelot came into view soon enough, and the sight filled him with an sense of relief, even if he knew that everything around him was screaming 'wrong!'.

Walking through the familiar markets, he concluded that he'd probably been sent much farther into the past than he'd hoped, probably to a time when Uther's influences still reigned. None of the usual charm merchants were shouting out their advertisements to the crowd. In fact, there wasn't a speck of magic to be seen anywhere. Merlin winced, suddenly glad that he'd decided not to use magic to make his journey any easier. Hopefully he wouldn't run into anyone he knew. It would be hard to explain why there were two Merlins running around. (That was assuming his younger self was here or that he was even born yet.)

At one point, he almost ducked into an alley and turned himself invisible. After a moment of hesitant consideration he decided against it. What if he bumped into someone? He didn't want to accidentally start another witch hunt.

There was a crowd in the castle courtyard. Merlin rose his eyebrows and wondered what was going on. Either the king was about to announce something or... oh no. He heard the drum beat too late.

It was an execution.

Skirting around the crowd, Merlin wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. Then he heard those fated words.

Uther's voice rang over the crowd, penetrating Merlin's ears. So he was still alive. "Let this serve as a lesson to you all. This man, Thomas James Collins, has been judged guilty of conspiring to use enchantments and magic."

Merlin ignored the rest of whatever the king said. He whirled around, searching the crowd for a familiar face – namely, himself. Where was he? He'd been standing in the middle, on that side of the platform.

Even as the entire crowd winced when poor Thomas's head was cut off, Merlin had come to the dreaded conclusion that his younger self wasn't there. And as all of the puzzle pieces fell into place, Merlin realized with dreaded horror that the reason he couldn't spot himself was because _he_ was his younger self. That explained the shorter hair, the ratty clothes, and the traveling pack. He had just completely taken over himself.

And for better or for worse, he had just changed his own time line.

Either that or this was one of those shadowy, alternate time lines created by the spell gone wrong. Which, in lieu of the more devastating consequences of changing the _set_ time line, that was actually quite a comforting thought.

Still, until he could figure out which one it was, Merlin thought it best to play things out exactly as they had been.

So he watched Mary Collins' dramatic vanishing act. Back then, Merlin had remembered feeling impressed and even empathetic for the poor woman. Now he was feeling rather apathetic, a reaction that disturbed him slightly. Maybe if he hadn't known that she was going to kill Arthur he would have appreciated her position more, but the whole 'I have to take revenge' thing really got old after a while. All emotions aside, Merlin noted that her dramatic tornado wasn't even necessary for the spell to work.

Gaius's chambers next then.

Gaius. It had been seventeen years since his adopted father had passed away. An unfamiliar creep of nervousness piqued at his senses.

He didn't bother asking the guards for directions this time. It was highly doubtful that _that_ would irrevocably ruin the entire fabric of time.

He peaked into the familiar room, bracing himself. When he saw Gaius standing there, looking through his books just like he always used to, Merlin felt unbidden tears well up. And there was the stupid bunny mask. Funny that he'd never thought to ask what it was for.

Ah! No. He couldn't cry. It would be strange for Gaius if Merlin broke down in front of him upon their meeting.

Quickly wiping any sign of wetness from his eyes, Merlin looked up and asked hesitantly, "Gaius?"

No reaction.

"Gaius?" he asked again, a little more loudly.

The old man turned to see who was calling him and fell, just as he did last time. Really, what was the point of having a railing if if was too feeble to hold anyone? Merlin thought irritably. He concentrated his magic on Gaius and lowered him to the ground gently. Even though the bed had broken Gaius's fall without much damage, he remembered that the poor physician had been forced to deal with an aching back for nearly a month afterwards.

"What?" Gaius exclaimed, jumping. "What did you just do?"

Merlin raised his eyebrows.

"Tell me!" the old man demanded, approaching him with a shaking finger. Merlin nearly laughed for all his joy. Gaius was up and walking! By the end of his life, Gaius had been confined to bed rest, feeble as anyone with a body as old as his.

"It was magic," Merlin said, smiling.

Gaius blinked at him. Obviously he hadn't been expecting such a blatant answer.

"And where did you learn how to do such a thing?" the old man asked, no longer snapping.

"No where," Merlin said, a half-truth. That had been instinctual magic, not the studied kind.

"Then how is that you know magic?" Gaius asked, leaning forward.

"I'm really, very talented," Merlin said, shrugging the pack off his shoulders. "I was born with magic and all. I don't really have to talk to do most spells."

"What? That's impossible," Gaius declared.

Merlin sighed dramatically. "That's what they all say – but here I am!" He spun around, holding out his arms.

Gaius gave him a skeptical look. "You do know that magic is outlawed," he inquired. He probably thought Merlin wasn't entirely sane.

"I never hear the end of it," Merlin answered truthfully. He really wanted to hug his old mentor.

Gaius frowned, unsure of what to make of this strange, overconfident lad.

Finally he asked, "Who are you?"

Merlin held out the letter he'd fished from his pack. "Here's a letter. And I know you don't have your reading glasses – they're by the brass scales over there – so I'll just tell you: I'm Merlin."

Gaius looked at him more closely. "Hunith's son?"

Merlin grinned. "That's right."

"But your not meant to be here 'til Wednesday!" Gais declared fervently.

Merlin chuckled and walked past the physician, opening the door to his old, familiar room. "You know, Gaius," he said with laughter. "Sometimes I think you secretly go to the taverns just as often as you say I do."

"What?"

The warlock turned, a huge smile plastered on his face. "It is Wednesday, Gaius!"

"Ah."

"I'm assuming this is my room?" Merlin asked, gesturing through the open door. Vicious waves of nostalgia were consuming his emotions.

Gaius's eyebrow twitched. "Erm, yes. Yes it is."

Merlin decided to go for it. He threw down the pack and ran up to his mentor. The old man was completely taken aback by Merlin's sudden bear hug, but he returned it, ending it with an awkward pat on Merlin's back.

"Ahem," Merlin started, feeling slightly overwhelmed. "Sorry. I'm very happy to be here, I guess."

Gaius gave him a half-smile. "It's quite all right, my boy. Just be more careful with that magic of yours – you could be killed if anyone sees you."

"Don't worry," Merlin assured him, he turned to enter his room.

"Although," Gaius said, and Merlin's heart leaped in his chest, "I should say thank you."

Merlin sent him another trademark grin and slipped into the room.

He allowed himself a four hour nap. He would've liked to sleep longer – all that walking had made him just as tired the second time as the first. Plus, on top of it all, he still had a minor headache and hadn't technically been to sleep in over twenty-four hours. He was resigned to his fate, however. Sleep deprivation wasn't anything new.

Besides, it was time to go save Lady Helen.


	3. His Royal Pratness

Disclaimer: I still don't own Merlin

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><p>Apparently destiny had it in for Lady Helen.<p>

She lasted a day longer than she would have originally. For some reason, this didn't comfort Merlin, who had resolved that he was going to save everyone he could without ruining the time-stream continuum. After all, he didn't _have_ to save Arthur's life to become his manservant. There were far more orthodox routes (involving bribery, Gaius's string-pulling, and maybe a little magical forgery). Lady Helen should have been allowed to live.

But no, fate seemed adamantly opposed to a breathing Lady Helen.

Not that Merlin was to know this, as he tip-toed past a snoring Gaius. He'd forgotten how loud the physician could be while he was sleeping. The whole situation made him feel odd, like he was was walking through a dream world. It had been _years_ since he'd had to do any sneaking at all, and even longer since he'd had to hide his magical abilities.

Hopefully he wasn't out of practice.

Uther's Camelot was kind of creepy at night – not to mention unguarded. Merlin barely had to use any magic at all to sneak through the gates. Honestly, who trained the guards anyways? They followed moving barrels like cats follow a ball of yarn: utterly ridiculous. Merlin had always held a sneaking suspicion that they were under the employ of one of the anti-Uther groups out there. As for the creepiness, Merlin blamed it on the lack of a magical hum that was in a constant flow around _his_ Camelot. This old version was just... dead.

It took two hours to find Lady Helen's camp.

A campfire lit the area around her ladyship's tent, and from what Merlin could see, there were at least six guards attending (not that that meant anything). He paused behind a tree for a minute, trying to decide on a course of action. For one thing, it would probably be a good idea to determine whether or not she was still Lady Helen.

How to do that... ah, a mirror. If he was correct on the type of enchantment Mary Collins had used, she would probably be revealed by a mirror's reflection. Merlin hoped Lady Helen had a mirror in her tent – conjuring one out of thin air could get messy.

Using a basic camouflage spell (true invisibility spells always gave Merlin a headache), Merlin slipped towards the tent. Just as he was about to peer in, ready to close his eyes in case she wasn't decent (that would be completely awkward), Merlin stepped on a rather crackly twig.

"Hello?" a woman asked. Merlin cursed mentally. She sounded scared. "Gregory?"

One of the knights posted by the entrance opened the tent flap and peered inside. "I'm here," he reassured. Merlin remained frozen against the tent wall, praying that the man didn't look too closely.

"Is all well?" Lady Helen asked.

"Yes ma'am. With luck we should reach Camelot by tomorrow," said the knight.

"That's good," Lady Helen said, sounding shaky.

Sensing her distress, Sir Gregory added, "I'll be outside if you need me."

He closed the tent flap and walked back towards the fire, giving Merlin enough space to breath.

All right, so that probably wasn't Mary Collins, but he had to check. Carefully, and watching out for devious twigs, Merlin crept towards the entrance and moved a small piece of the fabric.

There she was, doing her hair.

How convenient. She was doing her hair in front of a mirror – that just happened to reflect herself.

Smiling slightly, Merlin replaced the fabric and backed away from the clearing into the trees. Now to wait for Mary Collins to arrive. Merlin circled the campgrounds, silently placing magical barriers around the area – ones that would alarm him of any intruders.

Thirty minutes later, Merlin was just about to fall asleep against a tree when one of his alarms began to blare. Jolted out of his relaxed state, it took several moments to pick the spot his enchantment had been broken.

From behind the tent...

Jumping up, Merlin sprinted through the trees, ignoring one of the knights who'd taken out his sword and had demanded to know who was there. _Like an intruder would actually declare themselves_, Merlin scoffed internally.

The warlock found that he really had to focus his magic to see Mary Collins. It was now obvious the witch was no petty magic-user. She was using an advanced form of magic to hide herself known as the shadow concealment, basically concealing everything but her shadow until she dropped the spell.

"_Belúcan_," Merlin muttered from behind a tree, wanting to make sure there was no chance escape.

The witch turned and glared violently in his direction.

Just great! She was one of _those_ people. The ones that could sense magic.

She began to run, riling up the knights even more than Merlin had. Hindered by his lack of sleep and the confusion of the men, Merlin was unable to catch up with her before she had vanished using her teleportation necklace.

Since he couldn't voice his frustration, Merlin had to settle for banging his forehead against the nearest tree, imprinting his skin with a bark pattern. He hadn't even managed to put a tracking spell on her – what sort of a warlock was he?

Sighing, Merlin placed a few powerful wards around Lady Helen's tent before dragging himself back to Camelot. Hopefully Gaius wouldn't wake him up too early.

O o O

"_Merlin_..."

"_Merlin_..."

Merlin mentally blocked Kilgharrah's voice, unwilling to wake up just yet. Why couldn't the crazy over-grown lizard just let him be? He'd been in Camelot for less than a day, for crying out loud! With that, Merlin flipped over and fell back asleep.

O o O

Gaius came up to his room two hours later, banging on the door with a force that could rival Arthur.

"Merlin! Get up! It's nearly midday!"

Merlin groaned but complied and rolled out of bed.

"Merlin?"

"I'm up!" he called, lugging off his night shirt.

"Good," came the reply.

A minute later Merlin flung open the door and came bounding down the stairs.

Gaius sent the young man a incredulous look. "You slept for nearly fourteen hours," he noted.

_I wish_, Merlin thought, but replied with a yawn, "I was really tired out by that trip, I guess."

"I saved you some breakfast," Gaius said, setting a bowl of porridge on the table, "but I'm afraid it's gone a bit cold."

"That's alright," Merlin said, planning to heat it up with magic.

Gaius watched his new ward take a seat at the table. Then, as surreptitiously as he could, he walked by the bucket of water sitting on the edge and knocked it off.

Almost automatically, Merlin used magic to stop the bucket and the water. Gaius gasped. Merlin grinned and made the water flow back into the bucket before setting it gently on its perch.

"How did you do that?" Gaius demanded. "Did you encant a spell in your mind?"

Merlin took a bite of his now-heated breakfast and shook his head.

Gaius frowned. "So what did you do? There must be something."

Merlin swallowed. "That's just it. I've have instinctual magic, see? I don't need words for things like that."

Gaius looked skeptical. "I've never heard of anything like it," he breathed.

Merlin shrugged again and continued to eat.

Gaius straightened, determining that now was not the time for such nonsense. "By the way, Merlin, the water is for you, since you didn't wash last night."

Merlin sniffed himself and winced. "Right," he said feebly.

The old physician chuckled. "And then," he added, "you can do some errands for me. Until you find a real job I'm afraid all I can offer is a position as my assistant."

Merlin smiled up at the man. "Thank you," he said, completely heartfelt.

Gaius looked satisfied by his answer and said, "You're perfectly welcome, my boy."

O o O

Delivering the potions took a lot less effort than it had the first time around since he knew where everything was. It was probably also the reason he managed to make it in time to witness Arthur's 'torture the servant' performance.

Time to go save the royal prat from his own idiocy...

Edmund was running after the knife-infested shield when Merlin 'accidentally' ran into Arthur.

"Hey!" Arthur declared, shoving Merlin away from him. "Watch where your going."

Merlin stumbled and ignored the urge to roll his eyes.

"Just trying to stop you from embarrassing yourself," he replied innocently, watching Gwen out of the corner of his eyes.

Arthur gave him a very confused look. "I'm sorry. What?"

But Merlin wasn't paying attention to his voice, instead, he was focused on Arthur's form. "You're thin!" he declared, sounding amazed.

"What?" Arthur asked, slightly disturbed by Merlin's wide-eyed staring.

The warlock circled Arthur like a vulture. "You aren't even really that muscly yet!" he said incredulously. "Let alone fat..."

Arthur grabbed the front of Merlin's shirt. "Are you calling me fat?" he asked in a deadly tone.

Merlin continued to stare. Arthur was practically a bean pole compared to his future self! Then he gasped as Arthur punched him in the gut.

"OW!" Merlin cried, wrangling himself out of Arthur's grasp. He brushed himself off. "Didn't you even hear me? I was calling you the _opposite_ of fat, you clotpole!" He winced and rubbed his stomach.

The crowd took in a belated breathe. He'd just insulted the prince.

"What did you just call me?" Arthur asked, taking a step towards him.

"A clotpole," Merlin wheezed.

"And what exactly is that supposed to be?" Arthur asked, laughing at the idiocy of the boy in front of him.

Merlin grinned. Oh, no, he couldn't resist...

"Two words?" he asked, fully aware that this wasn't going to turn out well.

Arthur raised his eyebrows and gestured for him to continue.

"Prince Arthur."

The crowd laughed rapaciously and the last thing Merlin saw was Arthur's fist.

He definitely could have handled that better.


	4. Destiny Begins to Shape

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

Author's note: Let me know if you think Merlin's too cocky

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><p>"<em>Merlin<em>..."

The warlock was jolted to consciousness by the disembodied voice. He looked around. Of _course_ he would be in the dungeons.

"_Merlin_..."

"Shut up," Merlin grumbled. He had another headache and his right eye was throbbing painfully. In fact – he tried blinking – it was swollen shut. Did Arthur really have to hit so hard? He hoped that someone, maybe Leon, would lecture the prince on hitting unarmed peasants (even if they were annoyingly clever).

"Merlin," another voice said. It was Gaius. There was a jangling of the keys as a guard unlocked the cell door.

"You never cease to amaze me!" the old man declared, his lecturing mode switched to 'on'. "The one thing that someone like you should do is keep your head down, but what do you do? You behave like an idiot."

Merlin moaned.

"Believe me," he said miserably, sitting up in the hay, "I'm not happy about it either."

Gaius tried to hide his sympathy when he saw the boy's state. "You're lucky. I managed to pull a few strings to get you released," he said, helping Merlin to his feet.

Merlin grinned weakly. "Thank you," he said, poking at his injured eye.

Gaius slapped his hand. "Don't touch that!" he ordered. Merlin's hand dropped to his side.

The physician sighed, "Now, let's take you home and get that treated."

"Thanks," Merlin said again.

Gaius raised his head. "Don't count your blessings just yet. After I fix you up, there _is_ a small price to pay."

Merlin's eye widened. "Oh no, don't tell me..."

O o O

_SPLAT_!

A rotten fruit hit the board next to his face. Joy of joys. Merlin let out an exasperated sigh, trying to ignore the throbbing in his eye, along with an added aching back, and a still existent headache.

There was a mumble of disappointment when the small crowd realized they'd run out of rotten produce to throw.

He was awarded the temporary break almost the exact same time he caught sight of Gwen, who was approaching him now that the Merlin-pelters were out of ammunition.

"Hello," she said, bobbing. "I'm Guinevere, but most people call me Gwen. I'm Lady Morgana's maid."

"And I'm Merlin," he introduced, awkwardly shaking hands with her. "Though, I suppose most people are calling me 'idiot'."

"No! No, no, I saw what you did. So brave… I mean, I could tell you bumped into him on purpose."

"Really?" Merlin asked.

"You sound disappointed," Gwen noted, eyebrows raised.

Merlin sighed, "If you could tell it wasn't on accident, that means I'm a horrible actor."

Gwen laughed, "And that's a bad thing?"

"Believe me," Merlin said, "sometimes it's useful to be a good actor."

"If you say so," Gwen marveled.

"I do. So the prince is a bit of a bully, huh?" Merlin asked.

Gwen snorted, "Anyone who works around the castle is well aware of the fact. He hangs around a nasty bunch – I don't think they're a very good influence on him."

Merlin clicked his tongue.

"Well, give me a couple months," he asserted. "I'll have him all understanding and kingly by then."

Guinevere laughed. Merlin laughed along with her, even though he _had_ been perfectly serious.

"Yes, just keep bumping into him, and he's sure to come around," Gwen chuckled.

"Maybe all he needs is a good punching bag," Merlin mused.

Gwen winced as her attention was brought to his swollen eye. Gaius had done as much as he could for the injury, but in reality, time would be the only remedy. (This frustrated Merlin more than it did when he was younger. Waiting for an injury to heal on its own was something he hadn't had to deal with in a long while).

"I'm sorry about your eye," Gwen said.

"I was being stupid," Merlin said.

"I suppose it was kind of rash," Gwen admitted. "I mean, Arthur's one of those big, muscly kind of fellows."

"So?"

"So, you don't look like that," Gwen said. Then, realizing what she'd said, began to look sheepish.

"No, and I never intend to," Merlin said firmly.

Gwen laughed.

Behind her, Merlin saw a herd of kids lugging a basket full of ripened fruits and vegetables towards the stocks. He sighed loudly. "Well it was good to meet you, Gwen," he said. "But as you can see, my fans await."

Gwen turned and caught sight of the gathering crowd.

"Yes, well... see you later then?"

"Of course," Merlin said. As soon as she walked away, he was forced to put his head down to avoid a mouthful of tomato. Stupid, magic-imported tomatoes. Uther would probably have them banned if he found that the only reason Albion had tomatoes was because some idiotic sorcerer had been experimenting forty years ago and the spell had gone wrong. Instead of discovering a cure for the common cold, he'd teleported some strange plants into his garden. Oh well, they tasted good with potatoes.

…Hopefully no one would throw any of _those_.

O o O

Stupid tomatoes...

Merlin cursed the curious sorcerer for the hundredth time that day. Tomato seeds were a _horror_ to wash out of his hair. After peeling what felt like the hundredth seed out of his hair, he cheated and used magic.

Merlin sat down to supper wondering where exactly the tomatoes had been teleported from, when Gaius interrupted his musings with, "Do you want some vegetables with that?"

Merlin chuckled. "Really, Gaius, no need to rub it in," he said, taking a bite of the soup.

"You need to be more careful, Merlin," the old man said, sitting down.

"Believe me, I've learned my lesson," Merlin assured.

Gaius raised an eyebrow.

Merlin tilted his head. "Okay then, probably not. But I'm not used to being so careful," he said honestly. "This could take a while."

"Well don't take too long," Gaius said, concerned. "Your mother asked me to look after you."

Merlin smiled softly. It was strange to think that she was no longer living Camelot, that she was back in Ealdor, working among the fields.

"So what did she say about your gifts?" Gaius asked.

Merlin rested his elbows on the table. "She didn't know much about them to be honest," he said. "Magic doesn't come her way very often. Most of the things I've learned have been self-taught."

"Do you know any spells then?" Gaius asked.

Merlin decided it would be easiest if he just shook his head. "No."

Gaius straightened. He always did that whenever he'd make an important decision. Merlin guessed this one had to do with his magic book. He hoped so. While he didn't really need it anymore, the familiarity of simply having it under his bed would probably comfort him on bad days.

Gaius cocked his head. "You know, Merlin, you're special. The likes of which I've never seen before."

Merlin smiled at his mentor fondly.

"Don't blow up my head too much," he warned. "I'm already having to resist using magic on about a thousand different things."

"Did you really use magic so much in Ealdor?" Gaius asked in disbelief.

"It was easy enough to avoid people," Merlin lied.

Gaius sighed, "No wonder your mother sent you here. You're going to have to learn to control yourself, young man."

"I will," Merlin said. "Even _I'm_ pretty sure that I'm better off alive than dead."

Gaius snorted.

The physician helped himself to his own portion of soup and they talked about random things. Merlin asked about the castle and possible jobs he might try for – hinting that he would probably make a good manservant for a certain prince. In turn, Gaius asked him how his day in the stocks had gone and notified Merlin that he had known Guinevere for quite a while and that she was 'indeed, a nice girl'.

As soon as Merlin put down his spoon, Gaius stood up and grabbed a bottle from off of a shelf.

"Oh, Merlin. Before wander off, would you mind taking a preparation down to Lady Helen? She needs it for her voice."

"Of course," Merlin replied with a grin. It would be good to check up on the lady, see how she was doing after her upsetting night in the woods. He had already heard the rumors about the 'ghosts' that had come haunting her and her escorts in the middle of the night.

O o O

Merlin knocked lightly on the door.

"Come in!" a muffled voice called out.

Merlin grinned and stepped into the room.

"Lady Helen?" he asked.

The lady was sitting in front of the mirror... and what do you know – she was doing her hair. And her reflection still reflected herself.

"Hello. Well come in then," she said. "What is it that you have for me? A message?"

Merlin held out the bottle full of yellow liquid. She recognized it instantly and took it from him. With a smile she said, "I see Uther remembered. Thank the court physician for me, won't you?"

"It would be my pleasure," he professed, bowing. The real Lady Helen was obviously a decent noble – she had actual manners. He exited the room, feeling more accomplished than he had all day. Finally something was going _right_.

In his elation, he missed the shadow that crossed the pillar.

O o O

Down in the market-place, Merlin spent his time bartering with the various salesmen for random items. He didn't have much money, but a quill and some parchment would probably come in handy if he was going to forge a recommendation letter for himself. Only the best servants would ever be considered for the honored position of being a prince's personal manservant.

Then he caught sight of Arthur's blonde hair. He smacked himself mentally. This was the last place Merlin should have come – at least not until later.

Before he could duck behind a stall Arthur cat-called, "So how was your day in the stocks?"

Great. Just great.

"Fabulous," he said blandly.

Arthur snickered.

"Got your daily serving of vegetables I suppose," the prince joked. The young men around him laughed.

Oh, the wit.

When Merlin didn't say anything the prince asked, swinging his mace in slow circles, "So then, peasant, do you know how to walk on your knees?"

Merlin sighed inwardly. Not this again.

"I'd hope so," he called. "It's not exactly hard, is it?"

Arthur took a few steps closer, swinging his mace and was doing his absolute best to be intimidating. Merlin felt about as frightened of Arthur as he was of a squirrel, and probably less so. At least squirrels were fast.

"Then do it," the prince said. "Come on!" He pushed Merlin's shoulder. "Show us how easy it is!"

Merlin shook his head. "Sorry, no thanks."

"What was that?" Arthur asked, laughing incredulously.

"These are my only clean pair of trousers," Merlin explained. "The other ones are covered in vegetables."

That stalled Arthur for a moment, enough for Merlin to back up out of range. The prince was probably processing the idea that Merlin only had two pairs of trousers. He quickly got over it though, and shook away his unwanted thoughts.

"Do I look like I care? Kneel," Arthur ordered, gripping his weapon threateningly.

"Seriously?" Merlin asked.

"Do it or I'll give you shiner to match your other one," Arthur threatened, gesturing at Merlin's face. His cronies laughed evilly. By that point half the market was watching.

"This really isn't all that fair," Merlin pointed out. "You've been trained to kill since... when? Birth? And look at me, just a simple peasant. I've probably never held a sword in my life!"

"Get. Down."

All right. So apparently it was only dishonorable to bully an unarmed, unskilled opponent when you didn't think your opponent was annoying. And since Arthur clearly saw him as annoying, Merlin knew he probably didn't have much of a chance. Shame, because he really didn't want to get whacked by that broom again.

"Fine then! But you'll have to catch me, first!" Merlin yelled. He laughed, then bolted.

It probably wasn't the wisest thing to do, but as he ran he shouted, "Make way for the Royal PRAT! Make way! The prat's trying to catch me!"

Arthur and his friends chased after Merlin, growling loudly and shouting their own insults as they went. Several of the knights joined the chase as well after Merlin shouted something particularly insulting. There was no way someone should be able to get away with calling the prince a name like _that_.

After a while, Merlin realized he'd taken the indignence too far. It would be easy enough to get away from his pursuers. He knew Camelot's escape-routes better than his magic book, which was saying something. But unfortunately, now that there were at least ten knights and five nobles chasing after him, he would probably be in more trouble if he wasn't caught than if he just let Arthur have his way with him.

With a bout of frustration, Merlin pretended to trip over a pile of baskets.

A couple of Arthur's knights caught up and hauled him to his feet.

"The dungeons, sire?" they asked, breathing heavily.

Arthur considered the dark-haired boy in front of him. "Dungeons! Dungeons!" one of his friends began to chant, but he was stopped by Arthur's upraised hand.

"He may be an idiot," he said finally, "but he's a brave one. Let him go."

The soldiers released him.

Merlin stumbled away from them, relieved. Hooray for Arthur and his non-prattish instincts (the 'destiny' instincts, Merlin decided to dub them).

Arthur stared at him for a couple of seconds.

Then he said the same thing he'd said the last time: "There's something about you. I can't quite put my finger on it."

"My name is Merlin," Merlin introduced himself, giving Arthur a proper bow. Then he sent Arthur a small smile. "Pleased to meet you, sire."

Arthur nodded his head in return.

In his head, Merlin whooped for joy.

O o O

That night, Merlin sat through another lecture, but he barely heard any of it. Things were finally looking up. First Lady Helen and now no back injury to deal with – plus, Arthur had given him a bow. (All right, maybe he was fooling himself with that one, but still – it felt good.)

The dragon also tried to contact him again.

Merlin scoffed, and blocked his thoughts. Not tonight. He was exhausted.

O o O

"Oi!"

Merlin awoke with a start. Was it morning already?

"Have you seen the state of this room?" Gaius demanded, holding up various articles of clothing.

"I do live here," Merlin yawned.

"Well you'd better have it cleaned up before I get back!" the physician huffed, throwing a pair of trousers onto Merlin's bed. "And while I'm gone, I want you to get me some herbs: hennaing, wormwood and sorrel. And deliver this to Morgana. Poor girl's suffering from nightmares."

Merlin barely caught the cordial Gaius threw at him.

Morgana. He'd have to check his magic to keep himself from blowing her into oblivion on the spot.

A shirt hit him in the face.

O o O

The door to Morgana's room was open. He peered in cautiously, and there she was, standing with her back to him. Not wearing black, not smirking, and not trying to kill anyone.

"You know, I've been thinking about Arthur," she said, playing with her hair, then walking towards the screen.

"So have I," he answered.

She turned around, startled.

"Oh," she said, righting herself. "I thought you were Gwen."

"A common mistake I'm sure," he said with a grin. He held out the cordial. "Gaius told me to bring you this."

Morgana smiled at him uncertainly before reaching out and taking the pouch.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Merlin," he said. "I'm Gaius's new ward."

"And how's Camelot treating you?" Morgana asked politely.

Merlin considered the most diplomatic answer to her question. He finally settled for, "It keeps me on my toes."

"Good... I think," Morgana said, eyebrows raised.

Merlin smiled lightly.

"Well, better go – more errands to run."

Morgana nodded and watched him as he skirted around the door and out of her chambers.

O o O

Nearing the time of the feast, Merlin was passing through a hallway when he caught sight of... blast. He couldn't remember her name. All he knew was that the she was the temporary maid of Lady Helen. She'd been another one of Mary Collins' victims. And if he was right, she appeared to be heading there now.

Better do one last check, just in case.

Merlin caught up with the girl.

"Uh, hello," he said.

"Hello," the girl said without pausing in her step.

"Are you taking those to Lady Helen?" Merlin asked, gesturing at the fruit.

"Yes," the girl said, suddenly suspicious.

"Would you like me to take them? I've got to give Lady Helen her tonic anyway, it wouldn't be any trouble," Merlin said, holding up a random bottle that he'd gotten from the market.

The girl looked surprised. "Well, if you're sure..." she said, hesitating.

"Oh, it'd be no problem," Merlin assured, taking the bowl of fruit. "You can go see Evan now."

Evan, on the other hand, was someone he did know. The man had been melancholy for months after the death of his fiance. Merlin had trouble remembering him ever wearing a smile.

"Thank you!" she gushed, cheering at the thought of her fiance, and skipped off in the opposite direction.

Merlin breathed deeply and took the route to Lady Helen's room.

He knocked on the door.

He heard footsteps, then the door opened slightly. Upon seeing her, Merlin nearly cried out. He could instantly tell that something was off about noblewoman. Dark magic radiated off her, centering mainly on the necklace she was wearing. Then there was the overall aura of unkindness that she seemed to emit.

"Yes?" she asked.

Merlin shook his head and bowed properly. "You've been sent some fruit," he said, holding out the bowl.

She opened the door a little wider and stepped into the hallway. "Give them here," she demanded.

Before shutting the door on him she said, "And inform my maid that I will no longer require her services."

Merlin felt sick. That probably meant that somewhere in her room, Lady Helen's corpse was lying across the floor. "Of course," he said hoarsely. He didn't even wait for her to dismiss him before hurrying away from the scene.

What was _wrong_ with him?

How could he have let Camelot's walls lull him into such a false sense of security? And now, because of his stupidity, a friendly woman was now dead. Ended. Nonexistent. No more.

Merlin hid himself in one of the unused guest rooms for the remainder of the afternoon.

O o O

He arrived at the feast later than he would've liked. Most of the guests had already entered and Gaius was sending him a glare that could curdle milk.

"Merlin!" he scolded. "Where have you been all day? You're here to work, not laze around like a buffoon."

"I'm sorry, Gaius," Merlin apologized. "Something came up. But I did get the herbs from the market you asked. They're on the floor of my room somewhere."

Gaius lips set themselves in a thin line.

"I've been feeling a little homesick, I guess," Merlin finally confessed, which was partially true.

This had the desired effect. Gaius's expression immediately softened and he gave his new ward a comforting pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Merlin," he reassured. "You'll grow used to Camelot eventually."

Merlin nodded.

Soon afterward, the king entered the room. Merlin regretted that he hadn't gotten the chance to speak with Guinevere.

"We have enjoyed twenty years of peace and prosperity," Uther began, once the room had quieted. "It has brought the kingdom and myself many pleasures." His voice grew louder as he announced, "But few could compare with the honor of introducing Lady Helen – of Morra!"

The audience clapped and Merlin watched with narrowed eyes as the disguised Mary Collins took the stand.

Her voice was absolutely beautiful. This only made Merlin wish even more fervently that he could have saved the true Lady Helen. It would have been lovely to hear a real song pouring from her lips, instead of a foul enchantment.

Cobwebs.

_ Overdoing it, a bit, aren't we?_ Merlin thought at the woman while he glared.

The chandelier had been a good idea, so he used it again. A flash of gold and down it came, impaling her body on several of the spikes. His eyes focused on her her ruined body with a coldness that was unlike him – revenge was not worth the suffering it caused.

Merlin waited for everyone to wake up, and for the moment when Mary Collins gathered the last of her strength and magic, and threw the knife at Arthur.

Time slowed.

Merlin and Arthur landed on the floor with a thud, just as the knife imbedded itself into the chair.

Everyone gasped.

Uther stood up and approached Merlin with a look that resembled gratitude.

"You saved my boy's life," he said breathlessly. "A debt must be repaid."

"I do need a job," Merlin pitched in quickly.

Uther looked triumphant. Merlin hadn't known until Arthur had told him years later, but earlier that morning, Arthur had been complaining to Uther of the incompetence of his current manservant. Apparently he used to bother his father at least once a month about his servants before Merlin had come along. Obviously the king had grown tired of his son's whining.

"Then it is settled!" he declared. "You shall be awarded a position in the royal household. You shall be prince Arthur's manservant."

"Father!" Arthur exclaimed, sounding outraged.

Merlin did his best to look miserable.


	5. Book Retrieval Problems

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

A/N: Apologizing ahead of time. This is mostly an explanation chapter of what Merlin's personal goals/problems will be throughout the story. If it's confusing, message me - I wanted to get this chapter over with and on with the plot, and Arthur, and a cocky Merlin. If it's clear, to you... great!

* * *

><p>Gaius presented his ward with the magic book once the feast was over. Apparently saving the prince's life counted as a good reason for Merlin to be granted more extensive means of using magic. Except, this time, instead of having to boost Merlin's morale as he handed over the book, Gaius felt it was his duty to keep the young man's ego in check. He made it clear to Merlin, that owning a magic book absolutely did not give him permission to use magic more freely.<p>

Slightly put out, but glad to have his old friend back, Merlin thanked the physician.

"I will study every word," he warned.

Gaius snorted. "No doubt."

There was a knock on the door.

"Merlin!" a deep voice called from the other room. "Prince Arthur wants to see you – right away."

Merlin groaned.

Gaius nudged him. "Go find out what he wants."

"A bath, probably," he muttered, preparing himself to haul twenty buckets of water up and down the stairs. Stupid Arthur, wanting a bath in the middle of the night.

Edward, Arthur's old manservant, was waiting for him outside the door, looking rather grumpy. He _had_ just lost his job after all. In fact, he held a grudge against Merlin for several months for taking over his position. Despite the fact, Merlin didn't have it in his heart to tell the boy he would've been replaced soon anyways.

Merlin straightened his neckerchief. "What am I needed for?" he asked out of duty.

"The prince would like to take a bath," Edward replied sulkily.

Let the fun begin.

O o O

Merlin dragged himself to bed that night, his arms feeling limper than the time when he'd accidentally removed the bones (he'd been trying to fix a broken bone wordlessly at the time– another reason why he only did healing spells out loud). This younger version of his body wasn't used to carrying heavy loads. He groaned when he realized that it was going to take _months_ to rebuild his muscles to what he was used to. His older self might not have been like _Arthur_, but at least he could fill a bathtub without feeling exhausted.

Just as his head hit the pillow: "_Merlin_..."

"_Merlin_..."

He winced. Right. He hadn't visited Kilgharrah yet. And until he did so soon, the dragon was probably going to bother him every night for the rest of his life.

He hauled himself to his feet and pulled on his boots, and then his jacket. Hopefully Arthur wouldn't get him up too early tomorrow. After letting himself hang onto that piece of wishful thinking, he slipped out the door, around a snoring Gaius.

"_Merlin_..." Kilgharrah thought at him again.

The creepy voice had been helpful before, when Merlin hadn't known the way down to the cavern, but now it was just annoying. Couldn't the dragon talk normally? Merlin almost laughed at himself. The idea... So he put up another mentally block and made his way down to the cells.

The guards were knocked out easily enough by a sleeping spell. When they awoke, they'd believe they merely drifted off for a few minutes. Merlin decided not to cast any wards. He'd just have to hope that there wouldn't be any guard changes for at least an hour.

The tunnel leading down to the caves was drafty as ever, blowing the flames from the torch.

"Merlin..." by now his name was being said vocally.

Merlin reached the ledge and sat down, his legs criss-crossing in front of him. Then, using magic, he hung the torch in the air five feet above him.

The dragon gave a maniacal chuckle.

Merlin rolled his eyes.

"Come on out!" he called. "I know you're up there!"

Merlin didn't even blink as Kilgharrah swooped overhead. He could feel dirt particles fall as the dragon landed in front of him with a resounding thud.

"I am here," the dragon said, his neck snaking forward.

Merlin tilted his head. He hadn't really noticed before, but now that he had seen Kilgharrah in freedom, he realized that the dragon's bright scales were more gray and covered with dust from the cave. Imprisonment really wasn't working well for Kilgharrah. Merlin felt a slight ache for his kin.

Although, it was strange. The bond he had with the dragon was still there, but only as a shadow. As an idea. Its potential wouldn't be fully realized until his father was dead.

Balinor. Merlin suddenly realized that his father was alive.

Kilgharrah interrupted his musings with, "How small you are, for such a great destiny."

When Merlin didn't say anything the dragon continued, "I sense that you already have a grasp on much of your talent. This will be useful, for the young Pendragon faces many challenges – from friend and..."

"Cut it, Kilgharrah," Merlin said suddenly. He regretted his rude interruption, but he didn't have much time, and he had just come to the conclusion that Kilgharrah could help with his predicament. "I already know my destiny."

The dragon stiffened.

"Save Arthur, right? Don't worry, I'll obliterate anyone who tries to hurt him, you have my word."

The dragon stared at Merlin for a minute, then settled his head over his enormous arms.

"It appears you are already aware of many things, young warlock. Tell me – how is it that you have come by such knowledge?"

Merlin shifted his position. He was going to get a lecture for this, he just knew it.

"Well... I'm not exactly 'young', per se," he began. "Technically I'll be forty-six in a few months. I've already been here," he gestured around, "through the whole destiny process. Where I'm from, Arthur's already king. Albion is united. You are free. I am a dragonlord as well as Emrys, the greatest sorcerer to have ever lived. And most importantly, magic is allowed."

He stared at Kilgharrah.

"How is this possible?" the dragon finally asked.

Here comes the lecture. "How much do you known about time travel?" Merlin asked.

"Time travel is dangerous magic to work with," the dragon snarled. Merlin flinched. "I am surprised that you even tried to attempt it."

"I didn't know!" Merlin cried. "You were gone... off somewhere. Too far to reach. And I had nothing but a book to help me."

"A book? Few books speak of such magic – and even fewer magicians were ever able to use those spells."

Merlin sighed. "I managed to retrieve the lost book 'Medicus de Gallifrey' from the valley of the hidden thieves. There was an entire section on the art of time travel."

The dragon laughed. "You actually managed to find it? It was lost even in my time as a youngling. Where was it?"

"You mean 'where _is_ it?'," Merlin sighed. "It's still there, remember? And it's also the only way I'm going to be able to get home – unless you know something?" He looked up hopefully.

Kilgharrah shook his head. "I regret to say that I never chose to study that area of magic. Even the dragons were discouraged from tampering with time."

Merlin stood up.

"I don't know what to do, Kilgharrah," he growled, pulling at his hair. "I don't even know what part of the spell went wrong. All I do know, is that now I'm currently stuck in a younger version of myself, doing things I've already done."

"And do you know if this is real time or a shadow universe?" Kilgharrah asked. Merlin breathed a sigh of relief, glad that the dragon had grasped the situation so quickly.

Merlin began to pace. "That's the problem," he said. "I'm afraid to change too much, in case it _is_ real time. Horrible consequences come if the too much of the time stream is changed; the book was clear on that much. On the other hand, if it's shadow time, the longer I stay here, the more solid it will become..."

"...And eventually it will become its own reality," the dragon finished, looking grave.

"But if it _is_ a shadow universe," Merlin added. "I'll be able to move destiny along much more quickly, which will enable me to get the book much sooner."

"Why is that?" the dragon asked, looking sincerely curious.

"First of all, I need supplies. Arthur provided them for me last time, but I doubt Uther will be so yielding."

"I imagine if you told him it was a magical threat that needed to be eradicated..." the dragon trailed off.

Merlin laughed.

"He'd hunt it down to the ends of the earth," he snorted. "It almost _is_ to the ends of the earth actually – it took me six months to get there and back."

The dragon finished chuckling at the thought of Uther helping Merlin find a magic book, before letting the warlock continue.

"Second of all," Merlin continued, "I'll need a dragonlord. This is the easiest one actually – my father is still alive, and I probably could persuade him to join me."

There was a brief moment of silence.

"But there is something else," the dragon concluded, examining the tense features of the young warlock in front of him.

"Yes," Merlin sighed. He combed his fingers through his hair. "I need a necromancer," he said quietly.

The dragon was silent, realizing the gravity of the situation.

"Kilgharrah," Merlin said, shoulders slumping. "A proper _necromancer_."

"This will be a difficult order to fill, young warlock," Kilgharrah said. "A true necromancer is able to commune with the dead without using black magic."

"Plus, not even the druids really trust them," Merlin added miserably. "With Uther's magic ban added on top of it, finding one will be nearly impossible, even for me."

A heavy silence filled the vast cavern.

Kilgharrah growled, "Young warlock, let's say that you do manage to obtain your supplies, a necromancer, and then manage to convince your father to go."

Merlin nodded hesitantly.

"There is still one problem," the dragon warned. "If you leave, there will be no one here to protect Arthur."

Merlin's eyes widened. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten something so obvious.

"How on earth did the prat survive before I got here?" he asked in wonderment.

"I believe that Uther's twenty year anniversary of the banning of magic has rekindled old hatred... in himself and his enemies. You just happened to arrive at the same time," Kilgharrah said. The dragon considered then added, "There have also been various combinations of druids who have tried to keep magical threats from harming the Once and Future King – but other than that, I think it is apparent that the young Pendragon has simply been very lucky."

Merlin winced. "That's horrible."

"But true," the dragon said, tilting his head. "Destiny is on his side."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "How comforting."

"It can be," Kilgharrah said, "if you let it."

Merlin sighed. "So basically, I'm either going to have to wait for destiny to fulfill itself – so there can be other magic users here to protect him while I retrieve the book. Or I can hope this is a shadow universe and reveal everything early and bring him with me."

Kilgharrah looked at him gravely. "Choose wisely, young warlock. Depending on which world this is, your choice could have grave consequences."

Merlin gave the dragon a look. "Why is it, that every time I do something, there are always 'grave' consequences at the end of it and hardly any chances of a happy ending?"

Kilgharrah snarled.

"What?" Merlin asked.

"Remember, Merlin," Kilgharrah said, turning to leave. Merlin barely noted that this was one of the few times the dragon had ever said his name. "This is your own doing. You were the one to say the spell, therefore, it is up to you to fix it. No one else is responsible."

With that, the dragon unfurled his wings and flew to the overhanging, his chain clinking behind him.

"Thanks a lot!" Merlin called after him sarcastically. "That makes me feel so much better!"

But as he grabbed onto the floating torch, and was about to leave the cave, Merlin turned back and shouted in a more humble tone, "Really, I am grateful for your help! Thank you, Kilgharrah."

He bowed slightly, even though he wasn't in the dragon's line of vision, then turned and walked into the tunnels. When he was half-way up the stairs he heard Kilgharrah whisper in his mind, "_You are most welcome, young warlock_."

Merlin smiled slightly, then focused on the path ahead. Time to wake up the guards.

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><p>AN: The plot summaries of a story _do_ matter. I think four times the amount of people actually looked at my story once I changed the summary.


	6. Sir Valiant

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Merlin_**

* * *

><p>Merlin's first day as Arthur's servant had been predictably easy, if slightly annoying (he had been forced to listen to about a dozen people explain to him the way things were run).<p>

Poor Edward hadn't known what to make of him. From the ex-manservant's perspective, it probably seemed as though Merlin had a perfect memory, remembering directions and menus after only hearing them once. Not to mention that he was the one who showed Edward the shortcut to Arthur's room, not the other way around.

It wasn't until the Arthur's warm-up that Merlin began to suffer.

First of all, it had been years since he'd ever had to repress his magic to such an extent. And with the growth it had gone through over the years, a whip-lash would probably have devastating effects. The last time he'd gone through this, his magic was little more than a puddle – easy to control under pressure. Now he was having to learn to hold back an ocean. It didn't help, of course, that every time Arthur would yell, "Head!" he would then go on to slam his sword against Merlin's helmet. In reaction, his magic would well up and prepare to knock his attacker into the nearest tree.

Secondly, all of the muscle memory he'd built up for physical combat was gone. Back in _his_ Camelot, Merlin been considered a decent swordsman. Now, even though he knew what to do, his body didn't respond to any of his mental commands until it was too late.

"Arm!"

_CLASH!_

"Body!"

_BANG!_

"Head!" Arthur shouted.

"Ah!" Merlin yelled, and Arthur's sword came pummeling down.

_CLANG!_

The top of Merlin's helmet reverberated, and his balance faltered. "Ow," he said weakly, then toppled to the ground.

Inside him, his magic was raging.

_It's not my fault if there's a thunderstorm tonight_, Merlin thought dully, dropping his head back into the cool grass. His helmet had slipped off at some point in the fall.

"You're braver than you look," Arthur chuckled. "Most servants collapse after the first blow."

"Not brave – just stupid," Merlin said aloud, mostly to himself.

"Very likely." Arthur said. Then he held up a mace. "So? Ready for the next exercise?"

Merlin groaned.

O o O

As soon as the 'exercise session' was over, Arthur took pity on Merlin and called in a squire to come pick up the armor. Then he dismissed the warlock, saying that he could get some rest – Edward could finish off the rest of his duties. Merlin didn't even have it in him to feel sorry for the boy.

"But," Arthur warned, "you'd better come in tomorrow with at _least_ a basic knowledge of tournaments and the etiquette involved. I don't want you embarrassing me in front of the other knights."

Merlin bowed. "Yes, sire," he said stiffly, then turned and limped off the field, taking off his own armor as he went.

As soon as Arthur was out of sight, he tossed the armor in a pile and ran.

No, he sprinted.

His magic was practically overflowing. If he didn't release the unhinged magic soon, the result would probably be a collapsed tower.

By the time he made it far enough into the forest, his forehead was burning feverishly. To emphasize the lack of equilibrium he was undergoing, his hands turned clammy, his footing stumbled, and his vision went gold.

Which is probably why Merlin missed seeing the log, tripping him and bringing him to his knees. He gasped.

Magic poured out of him.

O o O

Fifteen minutes later, Merlin staggered into Gaius's chambers soaking wet and drained of all energy.

"My boy," Gaius hurried over, taking the armor from Merlin's weak grasp. "Are you all right? You look terrible."

Merlin sighed and slumped onto the bench.

Gaius brought his eyebrows together. "Arthur didn't have you practicing out in the rain, did he?" he sounded angry. "I've told that boy time and time again..."

"No, I just got caught in it," Merlin interrupted, laying his head on the table. Water from his hair puddled onto the wooden surface.

They both listened to the thunder as it rang out overhead. Some of the candles flickered.

"I hope it doesn't continue to rain during the tournament – injuries tend to double when knights fight in weather like this," Gaius said, almost conversational.

Merlin didn't open his eyes.

"Don't worry, it'll stop in a few hours," he said softly.

Gaius appraised the weary boy in front of him. There was something about him... Gaius shook his head, he would worry about that later. Now, "Merlin, let's get you your supper, then it's up to bed."

O o O

As Merlin pulled the covers up to his neck, he remembered that he would have to do something about what's-his-name, the knight with the the snake shield.

Lightning lit the room, followed by a low roll of thunder.

_Eh, he'll be easy enough to deal with_, Merlin decided, then drifted into a deep slumber.

O o O

The next morning, Merlin woke up 'late'. Or the same time he always did when he was Arthur's manservant.

"Merlin!" Gaius exclaimed when he entered the chambers and caught Merlin eating breakfast. "You do remember that you're Arthur's manservant, don't you?"

Merlin calmly continued to spoon porridge into his mouth.

"Don't worry, I'm only a little late," he assured.

"Everyone else has been up at least an hour," Gaius said, concerned, looking ready to take away Merlin's bowl.

"Oh," Merlin frowned. "Maybe I should go back to bed then."

"What are you talking about? Do you _want_ to be fired?"

Merlin looked up at Gaius. "You know, I really don't think the kin- the prince," he corrected, "is a much of a morning person. Yesterday he was half-asleep when he ate his breakfast."

Gaius frowned. "It doesn't matter whether he's a morning person or not. He was supposed to be up an hour ago!"

Merlin sighed and put down his spoon.

"Fine then," he said. "But watch him like me better than Edward just because I allow him to sleep in."

"Merlin," Gaius warned.

Merlin grinned and hurried out the door. It didn't matter what anyone thought. He knew he was right. Better yet, he knew what he was doing.

O o O

And he _was_ right… to an extent. He'd forgotten that Arthur wasn't used to this more comfort-oriented schedule.

"Ugh! I missed the meeting with my father!" Arthur exclaimed, shoving the roll into his mouth while Merlin followed him around with his clothes.

"Sire..." he began.

"You!" Arthur swirled around and pointed at the dark-haired boy. "You!"

Merlin tapped his foot and waited.

He stalked up to Merlin until their faces were only six inches away from each other. Doing so, Merlin smugly noticed that he was taller than the prince. While he was contemplating the advantage, the warlock almost missed Arthur's threatening statement.

"You had better prepared a good excuse because otherwise I will make _your life_ a living nightmare, starting with a day in the stocks."

Merlin rolled his eyes.

"You never let me finish," he drawled, handing Arthur his shirt. "I sent a messenger to king, sending your regrets, saying that you still had some important land disputes to review – they came in three hours ago – which are _vital_ to the meeting, but that you _would_ be able to meet with him in... we have about fifteen minutes, I think."

Arthur stared, crumbs falling out of his mouth.

"Your father sent a message back saying that it was perfectly all right and he's glad that you're taking the initiative," Merlin added as an afterthought, gesturing at the note on the table.

Arthur swallowed. "Really?" he finally asked.

"Mm-hm," Merlin hummed.

Arthur drummed his fingers against his arm.

"Wait a minute," the prince said, freezing, "you read?"

"Yup," Merlin answered, popping the 'p'.

Arthur frowned then moved behind the screen. "Where in earth did you learn how to read?" he asked, pulling the shirt over his head.

"My mother taught me," Merlin said, not elaborating.

There was a minute of silence as Arthur pondered this new development. He'd never had a servant who could read before.

"Merlin," Arthur suddenly hissed. Merlin froze. "There's a catch to your glorious plan. I haven't actually read those reports yet."

Merlin relaxed. "Don't worry about that," he said, riffling through the wardrobe for a pair of trousers. "_I_ have."

Arthur poked his head around the screen.

"What?" he asked.

"I read them," Merlin stated in a matter-of-fact tone. "I'll summarize them for you while we walk down to the counsel chambers."

Arthur raised his eyebrows and watched is new manservant deftly pull a pair of trousers from his wardrobe. "So you've read them, _and _you understood them enough to summarize them," Arthur stated, sounding skeptical.

"It wasn't exactly hard," Merlin said, draping the trousers over the screen. "Baron Cecil really doesn't have much of a chance at winning this one. I mean, Lord Lucas had the original claim and most of the people living there already report to him anyways... and most importantly, he pays more taxes."

There was another moment of silence as Arthur grasped this bit of information.

"What were you before you were my manservant?" Arthur asked, curious.

"A farmer," Merlin said pleasantly, as, _"Your court sorcerer,"_ probably wasn't an appropriate response.

Arthur snorted in disbelief. "Come on," he said. "You have to have had some sort of educational background if you can sort out a land dispute."

"My mother was a smart woman," Merlin said. Technically, she hadn't really known anything about politics, but there was no reason for Arthur to know that. Most of Merlin's political education actually came from from sitting in on over twenty years worth of boring counsel meetings.

"So how'd you sort out all of..." Arthur stepped out from behind the screen and gestured around "... this?"

"What?" Merlin asked, not sure what 'this' was.

"The whole 'giving my father a message' thing. Plus," he added, "how did you know about the land disputes or my meeting with him in the first place?"

Merlin shrugged, and answered as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, "I asked the other servants."

Arthur gave Merlin an appraising look. "Maybe I underestimated you," he finally admitted, almost reverently.

Merlin grinned. "Happens often enough."

Arthur pointed at him. "Don't think this gets you out of your chores," he warned.

"Wouldn't dream of it, sire," Merlin said.

O o O

Arthur was also grudgingly impressed by how quickly his new manservant picked up on the tournament rules. If he hadn't known better, he would've thought that Merlin had been doing it for years.

"Have fun," Merlin said, handing the prince his helmet. "And stop looking so nervous. It's only a tournament."

"I do _not_ get nervous," Arthur snapped.

"Clearly," Merlin said.

"Would you shut up!" Arthur yelled, grabbing his sword away from from the servant.

"Nervous," Merlin whispered.

Arthur actually swung the sword at him.

"Ah!" Merlin yelped, jumping back. "And stop taking it out on _me_!"

Arthur's mouth opened, almost in awe at the sheer stupidity of Merlin. The man was brilliant about some things, but he obviously didn't know when to shut his mouth.

"We'll discuss this later," Arthur hissed.

Merlin sighed, watching as the prince stalked away from him. It was time for the games to begin.

The only reason Merlin watched any of the fighting was because he couldn't remember which knight had the snake shield – it had been over twenty years, after all, since he'd last seen the man. Luckily, he wasn't forced to watch long. Minutes after the start, the knights filed past him, and Merlin caught sight of a knight with the snake crest – he was wearing a bright dandelion yellow (very manly, Merlin was sure). He made it a point to ask the squires who he was.

"Him?" a boy named Howey pointed over to the knight. Merlin nodded. "Oh, that's Sir Valiant."

Right. Sir Valiant, otherwise known as creepy snake guy.

After that, Merlin allowed himself to relax. Arthur might have fun jumping around, bashing people, but really, Merlin preferred laying back in the grass, watching the clouds.

Fifteen minutes later:

"Having fun, are we?" the prince asked, finished with his match.

"More fun than you, probably," Merlin stated, sitting up. "You look sweaty and miserable."

Arthur snorted. "Not all of us are contented with looking like girlish idiots. Fighting in these tournaments are honorable – it lets the people see what kind of leaders will be ruling them."

"Mm," Merlin replied, though he'd been very tempted to reply with, "Ah, you mean prats who enjoy bashing each other with pointy things?" but he didn't think Arthur was ready for that kind of teasing yet. The young prince really took these contests much too seriously.

Even in the future he took these things seriously, though Merlin had managed to temper it down a little.

At one point during the day, Sir Valiant found time to approach Arthur after _gloriously_ winning one of his matches.

"May I offer my congratulations on your victories today," he said, giving Arthur a nod.

"Likewise," Arthur replied, ever the orator.

"I'll see you at the reception this evening," the man said, looking far too certain of himself. Then he left.

Once he was out of hearing range, Merlin snorted, "Bit confident, are we?"

Arthur scowled. "People like him are in it for the glory – nothing else. He has vicious fighting style. I doubt there's a speck of true compassion in the man."

Merlin gave Arthur a gratified look. The prince didn't know it, but he'd just demonstrated one of the skills that made him such a good king: reading people. Despite the unfortunate incidents involving Morgana and Agravaine, Arthur had proven himself, multiple times, to be a good judge of character. And Merlin honored him for it.

Not that he'd say so now. No need to blow up the prat's ego bigger than it already was.

"Ah, and for tomorrow," Arthur began, after realizing that he was talking to _Merlin_ of all people, "you need to clean my shield, wash my tunic, clean my boots, sharpen my sword, and polish my chain mail." Then he walked off, leaving a dismayed Merlin holding his armor.

"Prat," Merlin muttered, then stalked off to do as his royal highness commanded. He was going to do it without magic. Merlin was determined to build up his muscular strength back to normal.

Not to mention his swordsmanship. Hm... he wondered if it would be possible to enchant a sword to attack him. Probably. The thought cheered him up considerably.

O o O

While Gaius was cooking supper, he kept hearing clanging noises emanating from the room that now belonged to Merlin. He knew the boy was supposed to be polishing the prince's armor, but he seriously doubted it would be so _noisy_. Frankly, if he hadn't known better, he would have said it sounded like someone was having a duel.

After the fifth resounding crash – probably the crate being knocked over – Gaius set down the ladle and decided it would probably be a good idea to check on his ward.

He opened the door, unsure of what he was going to find. Pure chaos.

"Merlin!" he cried.

"Eh?" Merlin turned in the physician's direction. The sword that had been swinging towards him dropped to the bed, and Merlin's own sword continued on with its momentum and hit the wall. Gaius winced. That was going to leave a mark.

"What are you doing?" he asked incredulously.

Merlin stepped down from the bed, looking guilty.

"And take those down too!" Gaius ordered, pointing at the self-polishing helmet and the self-washing laundry floating near the ceiling (he hadn't wanted them getting in the way of his sword fight).

With a sigh that would impress most teenagers, Merlin released the animation spells he'd placed on his chores, and lowered them gently to the floor.

"Well?" Gaius asked angrily. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Merlin pouted. "I _was_ planning to do my chores without magic – I swear!" he defended.

"Then why didn't you?" Gaius asked incredulously. "If I had been someone else, you would have been dragged off to be executed!"

"Like they'd actually be able to manage it," Merlin snorted, but when he caught expression on his mentor's face, he humbled himself.

"Sorry," he said, hunching his shoulders.

The old physician pressed his lips together in a scowl. Then he sighed, "Merlin? What am I going to do with you?"

"Forgive me and hope I don't get myself killed?" Merlin suggested cautiously.

Gaius snorted.

"I suppose I could do that," he said, softening. "But really, Merlin," he warned. "I want you to promise me that you'll be more careful."

Merlin nodded, and this time, he fully intended to fall through.

O o O

At some point, late into the evening, Edward was slightly put out to see Merlin peek his head through the doorway of his quarters.

"Yes?" he asked dully.

"I was just wondering..." Merlin began. Edward raised his eyebrows. "Did Arthur ever throw anything at you?"

Edward sent him a bemused look. "No."

"I thought not," Merlin said, then turned and walked away.

O o O

That night, Merlin snuck down to the armory. This was one of the few rooms in the castle that were lit twenty-four/seven, in case of emergencies that both involved national security and servants who procrastinated the polishing of their master's armor.

So by the flickering torchlight, Merlin made his way through the various racks of weapons, shields, and helmets.

Valiant's shield...

Valiant's shield...

After ten minutes of searching, Merlin came to the dreaded conclusion that it wasn't there. He drummed his fingers on the table where Arthur's armor sat. If it wasn't in the armory, then where would it be?

A thought struck him. Oh. He remembered seeing the knight feeding his snakes – the shield was probably in his room. In fact, if Merlin was Valiant, he'd probably keep the shield away from everyone too. Even though the snakes were obedient when given an order, they were also live creatures, which made them unpredictable. Maybe if the spell had been done properly, it would've been safe enough to leave alone, but with Uther's laws, people were limited to using the ever unreliable magic underground.

For heaven's sake! Every time Merlin had walked past the thing it had hissed!

With a growl, Merlin stalked out of the room and went back to bed.

O o O

"Don't eat so fast!" Gaius chided his ward. "You'll get the hiccups."

Merlin spooned the last bite of porridge into his mouth. "Sorry!" he exclaimed, mouth full. "Got to go... have to do something before I wake up Arthur."

"Did you not finish your chores?" Gaius asked, preparing to lecture the wayward youth. But there was no answer; Merlin had already run out the door.

If he was lucky – Merlin hoped that he was – Valiant would've taken his shield down to the armory so the squires could haul it to the tournament field with the rest of his armor. If that was the case, then Merlin might be able to sort out the enchantment and either permanently freeze the snakes or free them, depending on how deep under Valiant's control they were. Merlin had no problem with transporting them back to their homes in the mountains if they could be disenchanted.

The armory was just as dim during the day as it was at night.

Merlin scanned the room, trying to catch a glimpse of the familiar snake pattern. Something hissed. The warlock immediately homed in on the sound and found the shield propped up against a wooden chest.

"Got you," he muttered under his breath. Carefully, so he wouldn't startle the reptiles, Merlin knelt in front of the shield. The snakes were unstable, yes, but Merlin's immense ocean of magic probably excited them more than anything.

As Merlin placed his palm flat against the wooden surface, one of the eyes flickered red.

The sound of a blade being drawn made him jump, and almost an instant later he found a sword aimed at his heart. Merlin grimaced. This had happened last time too.

Trying not to sigh, the warlock looked up. Sir Valiant was looming over him, his face hidden in the shadows.

"Can I help you with something, boy?" the man asked. Merlin had to resist the urge to give the knight a sarcastic retort. Either Valiant was threatening him (and failing miserably) or he trying to come off as unsuspicious (with a sword to back up his innocence).

Merlin stood up slowly. "Ah... sorry. Got distracted. I'm supposed to be gathering up my master's armor..." he hoped he sounded anxious, instead of snarky, like he was feeling.

"Well you best be on your way," the man said. It would have sounded civil if it weren't for the sword.

"Uh-huh," Merlin said, turning and gathering up all of Arthur's magically polished armor. Halfway magically polished – he'd done the rest of it by hand after Gaius had caught him.

He did his best to ignore the fact that Sir Valiant tripped him as he headed for the door.

O o O

Arthur was less nervous the second day, probably because he'd already won so many matches. This only made him more confident when dealing with his new manservant, which really didn't help because it meant chores for Merlin.

Still, in between running errands and helping Arthur with his armor, Merlin managed to watch one match of the tournament – which was all he needed.

Valiant was in the middle of fighting Sir Ewain (who was wearing purple, another manly color, and Merlin couldn't help but picture a field of violets and dandelions as they battled). Valiant was bashing his sword furiously against Ewain's shield. It didn't appear to do anything other than show how desperate Valiant was becoming. Ewain obviously possessed the same level of skill with the sword as the yellow knight, and Valiant really didn't appreciate the odds.

As soon as he had the chance, he was going to use the shield.

Merlin wondered at the man's sanity. It was really risky to use magic in front of an enormous crowd – in front of the_ king_, no less – and all for a thousand gold pieces. That was a lot of money, but Merlin questioned whether it was worth losing your head for.

Valiant was no sorcerer. Of course, he had a _little _magic, the shield wouldn't work for him otherwise, but it would never be enough to do any spells. But he was still using magic for evil, which was why Merlin was reluctant to reveal the man in front of everyone. He hated furthering Uther's stance against magic. He hated proving to Arthur that maybe his father was right.

But he needed to get rid of Valiant – otherwise someone would end up dead.

As soon as Valiant and Ewain stepped away from each other, Merlin nudged the magic of the shield with his own.

The snakes hissed and jumped out of the shield. "Hey!" Valiant spluttered, horrified, "I didn't summon you! I didn't summon you!"

Most of the crowd had jumped to their feet, and Sir Ewain had frozen in shock. Uther on the other hand was mixing his shouts for the guards with denouncements of sorcery. Cornered, Valiant did the only thing he could, he ordered the snakes to attack. Merlin watched Sir Ewain anxiously, hoping the knight would snap out of it and get a grip on his sword. The guards weren't going to reach him before the snakes did.

To Ewain's credit, he did manage to cut off two heads. Unfortunately, the third snake dodged the third sword stroke and bit him in the ankle. The knight gave a cry, then crumpled to the ground in a heap, barely missing being sliced by his own sword.

If Merlin hadn't intervened and tripped Valiant, causing him to land on the startled snake, he would've gone for the kill and stabbed Ewain. The snake hadn't liked the sudden weight on top of him, and had done exactly what it's instincts ordered: strike. Thus, the entire crowd watched as the evil sorcerer caused his own downfall.

Unlike the time with Arthur however, an honorable knight was sprawled out next to the enemy, so no one was cheering.

O o O

Merlin burst through the door's of Gaius's chamber's, victoriously holding up one of the snake heads.

"Thank heavens!" Gaius exclaimed. "However did you managed to track it down?"

Upon the guards' arrival, King Uther had immediately ordered the burning of the snakes, the shield, and Sir Valiant. His demands had been carried out within minutes, leaving no time for Gaius to explain that he required some of the snake venom if Sir Ewain was going to have a chance of recovery.

Luckily for Ewain, the third snake had escaped in the chaos.

"With great difficulty," Merlin answered Gaius wearily, collapsing into a chair after handing off the head. "There I was, tramping around the forest, when it turns out that it had slithered back into Valiant's room and decided to take a nap in the cupboard!"

Gaius chuckled. "Well I'm sure Ewain will be grateful. If Uther had gotten a hold of that third snake..."

Merlin scowled.

"So how _did_ you manage it?" the physician finally asked, giving Merlin a significant look.

They both glanced surreptitiously at the unconscious knight stretched out on the cot.

Merlin nodded and said quietly, "Eventually I had to use magic. Even with that book on tracking you gave me, I lost its trail after thirty feet."

Gaius smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "Good job, Merlin. I have to say, good job."

Merlin felt a warmth grow inside his heart.


	7. On Maturity and Magical Eggs

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

* * *

><p>Merlin leaned in closer to the mirror, a pleased expression on his face.<p>

"Stop admiring yourself, _Mer_lin, and come finish summarizing these reports!" Arthur ordered pompously.

Merlin payed no attention to the prince. His eye was completely healed! It made sense, he supposed, since it had been nearly month, but still. It was nice to finally stop and see the normal skin for himself.

"Merlin! Come over here, _now_, or its the stocks for you!" the prince threatened. Sighing, Merlin turned and strode over to the table, plopping in the seat next to Arthur, where a giant pile of parchment waited.

Arthur was becoming spoiled, Merlin noted. Ever since he'd learned that Merlin could read and understand politics, he'd been using the manservant to cheat on his duties as prince of Camelot.

"Let's get through this fast as possible," Arthur said. "I want to train with Leon before I lead the knights in their drills today."

And _there_ was the reason he shamelessly used Merlin complete his royal duties: combat training.

Merlin sighed, putting aside the report on potato agriculture. He'd read far too many of those lately. "If this keeps up, sire, I'll be more qualified for your job than you are."

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Don't be _ridiculous_, Merlin. All you have to do is read the things. I'm the one who has to bring the final decision to my father."

"Which I give you half the time," Merlin retorted, shuffling through the stacks of paper.

"Do not!"

"Do to."

"Merlin?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

Merlin smiled and settled back into his chair.

There was a tentative knock at the door. Arthur hastily grabbed the stack of reports away from Merlin. Heaven forbid anyone catch him using a _servant_ to do his job, Merlin thought, rolling his eyes. He had an overwhelming urge to put his feet up on the desk.

"Come in!" the prince called.

The messenger entered, giving Merlin a strange look when he saw the manservant slumped in a chair by Arthur's desk.

Then he caught the prince's expectant expression and quickly bowed. "Ahem," he cleared his throat. "Sire, the king has requested your presence in the throne room, and has ordered that Merlin immediately attend to the needs of the court physician."

Arthur frowned. "Did he say why?"

The boy hesitated, as this really wasn't part of the message, and all he had heard were rumors. "There's a strange sickness going around," he finally said.

Arthur sighed, that really wasn't very specific. "Thank you. You may leave," he dismissed the boy.

"May I leave then?" Merlin asked, getting ready to stand.

Arthur snorted, "Obviously. And as soon as you get the chance, come report to me. If there's something my father misses telling me, I want to know."

Merlin rose and nodded. "As soon as I can get away," he agreed. Then added cheerfully, "If it's not contagious that is..."

"Just leave, already," the prince ordered. At least he now had an excuse to ignore the paperwork.

O o O

"How many victims have there been?" Merlin asked, looking solemnly over the bodies.

"Just these two – so far," Gaius said grimly. "No doubt there will be more."

Merlin sighed, "I know what caused it."

Gaius looked up sharply.

"It's an _Afanc_, Gaius," Merlin said. "I was reading about them just recently – they can only be created by the most powerful of sorcerers. This exactly the type of sickness they would bring on."

"Are you sure?" the physician asked.

"Positive," Merlin said.

"Which book were you reading?" Gaius asked, looking around at the stacks of books littering the room. "Maybe there's something in there that can help us."

"Um..." Merlin couldn't remember which book he and Gaius he'd looked through all those years ago. "The cover was brown," he said unhelpfully.

More than half the books had brown covers.

Gaius sighed in exasperation. "Well that's no use, Merlin. Try to think harder; this could be important!" the old man lectured. "Uther is already quite aware that sorcery is being used. If we can't come up with a solution fast, he's going to start arresting people!"

Merlin waved away his mentor's worries. "But what if I defeated the creature?" he asked.

"And how do to propose to go about doing such a thing?" Gaius asked, eyebrows raised. "Afancs are very powerful creatures." Sometimes he wondered if his ward was brain-dead.

"It's a creature of the elements of water and earth," Merlin explained, looking determined. "What if I used, say... fire and wind to defeat it?"

Gaius frowned suspiciously. "That would probably work, yes," he admitted after a moment of grim consideration. He sent the boy a look. "Are you _sure_ you read this all in a book?"

"Actually I think it was more of a combination of several," Merlin admitted... _and a cryptic dragon_.

Gaius rubbed his temples, suddenly wondering if his age was finally catching up to him. "Even if we do have a way to defeat this creature – and that alone will be very dangerous – how are we supposed to locate it?" he questioned. He had a funny idea that his ward probably already had an answer for this.

And he did.

"It's in the water supply," Merlin replied instantly. "The disease obviously isn't transmitted by touch or air, since the two people infected were never that close in contact with one another. The only thing they really share is their water."

_Brilliant_, Gaius commended inside his head, and it made him suspicious – it was almost too brilliant. No student of his had ever deduced the cause and means of transmission so quickly. Then again, Merlin was no ordinary student.

"While I go defeat the Afanc," Merlin continued, "you can give any further patients a fake remedy so Uther isn't suspicious when everyone miraculously recovers."

Merlin held his breath. He needed Gaius's support in this if his plan was going to work.

"What about the sorcerer who caused it?" Gaius reminded. "Uther will continue to search, even if the plague _is_ stopped."

Merlin tapped his fingers with a nervous energy while he thought. His brow creased as he tried to remember the reason Uther had stopped the search the last time. He found, to his dismay, that he either didn't know or couldn't remember.

"I'll come up with something?" he suggested lamely, unable to think of an instant solution for the matter.

Gaius's lips met in a thin line.

Merlin straightened and declared, before his mentor could say anything adverse about his plan, "Well, I'll get on it, right away. If Arthur comes in, tell him I'm picking herbs for you – that usually works."

Gaius frowned. As far as he knew, he'd never actually used that excuse before.

"Merlin," he said, watching the boy head for the door. "You aren't going after it by yourself, are you?"

"Of course. It's not like it's going to be that difficult," he scoffed, opening the door.

"Don't be so confident! Afancs are very dangerous creatures!" Gaius said, almost angrily. He'd promised Merlin's mother that he'd watch over the boy. Letting him go gallivanting after monsters certainly wasn't the right way to go about protecting the overconfident lad, but it looked as though Merlin wasn't going to let the physician stop him.

"What about the keys?" Gaius yelled after the boy, as one last ploy to get him to see reason. "You need them to unlock..." Merlin was already gone.

Gaius frowned even more deeply.

That boy was going to get himself killed. Should he send Arthur after him? No – that would probably lead to an execution.

He turned back to look at the victims laid out on the hastily cleared table. They could wait. They were dead. Steeling himself, Gaius prepared to go after his ward.

"Gaius!"

Gaius slowly closed his eyes and reopened them.

It was Arthur.

"I'm sorry, Gaius," the prince said, using lower tones, looking apologetic. There were two knights trailing behind him. "Father's just ordered me to do a search for the sorcerer."

So much for following Merlin. Gaius prayed that the boy would _be careful_.

"Of course, sire. Come in," he said, bowing as Arthur entered. "You will be pleased to know that I've come close to finding a cure. I've sent Merlin on an errand."

_Let's hope this works_.

O o O

The guards stiffened and watched Merlin suspiciously as he reentered the city.

Continuing with his emphatic humming, Merlin grinned broadly and saluted them as he passed, very aware of how odd he looked. Still, he was feeling very pleased with himself. Even though the battle had gotten a bit sticky in the middle, the Afanc had been defeated – and all in time for supper.

Merlin's scalp was beginning to itch as the mud caking his hair slowly dried. Apparently Afancs had a slight level of control over the elements they were made up of... who would've guessed? That giant wave it had sent at Merlin had sure been a surprise. As he tried to ignore the stares from various villagers, Merlin made a mental note to never again battle an Afanc when near a large source of water. Every time he'd summoned a breath of flames, a sheet of water had blocked his attack. Eventually he'd been required to bring on such an intense firestorm that any water the creature brought up evaporated instantly.

Merlin grinned to himself. That had been fun to do.

Reminiscing over the relief of finally being able to release a large amount of magic (and on purpose, too), Merlin missed seeing the prince walk out of a house. He completely bowled him over.

Hearing the angry shouts of their prince, the knights quickly rushed outside, only to see Arthur shoving away what appeared to be a mud golem. They drew their swords with lightning-quick reflexes, prepared to attack the being – then they spotted the neckerchief and realized that it was Merlin being dumb again.

"Merlin!" Arthur shouted, looking down at his freshly dirtied clothes. "You had better have a good explanation for this!" he hissed.

"I do!" Merlin defended.

"Aren't you supposed to be helping Gaius?" the prince asked, trying futilely to rub the mud off of his hands.

Merlin grinned. "I was!" he exclaimed, then he held up what he'd been clutching behind his back.

Arthur examined the object with an upraised eyebrow. "Is that an... egg?" he questioned, giving Merlin a look that clearly said, "You are an _idiot_."

Merlin forced himself not to roll his eyes. Oh, Arthur was hard young.

"It's a magical egg," he said in a conspiratorial tone, tapping his fingers on the markings. Because Merlin's muddy hand prints covered most of the egg, Arthur had to bend closely to see the ancient symbols. Once he did, there was no denying it.

Arthur stiffened.

"Magic, you say?" he asked hoarsely. The knights behind him tensed.

"Yep," Merlin said, trying very hard not to laugh at the shadow of seriousness that seemed to befall everyone within hearing range. He'd probably better explain. "Gaius and I discovered that the source of the plague must be in the water. So while Gaius helped with the victims, he sent me to the underground springs to have a look."

He hoped Gaius hadn't given Arthur the excuse he'd told the physician to use – the one about picking herbs. That would just make things awkward.

"And this was in there?" Arthur asked, pointing at the egg with his sword. Merlin sighed in relief: apparently the herb-picking excuse hadn't been used. Either that or Arthur didn't care.

Merlin tried to look grave. "Yes. Since it's been removed, hopefully the enchantment has lifted." _ But it's mostly because of my amazing magic skills_.

Arthur took a deep breath. "We should show this to my father. It may help us find the sorcerer," he said gravely. Then, looking regal, he turned on his heels and beckoned for a mud-encased Merlin and his knights to follow him.

"Ah, sire?" Merlin began, skipping after Arthur (it was hard not to skip in this younger body of his). "Sire?"

"Sire?" he asked again, getting no response. The prince seemed to be in deep thought (not that Merlin believed he actually _was_).

Merlin tried coughing.

Nothing.

"Erm... Arthur?"

"What?" came the harsh reply.

"Are you sure it would be wise to... ahem, present myself to the king looking like this?" Merlin inquired, tugging at his hardening clothes.

"We need to inform him of the situation immediately," Arthur said. Then he added with a slight smirk, "Besides, it's not like you have a reputation to uphold."

Merlin frowned.

Arthur turned to him. "How on earth did you end up like that anyway?" he asked, looking perplexed.

"It was under the water," Merlin said, joggling the egg for emphasis. "When I leaned over the edge I fell in."

"But you're all _muddy_," Arthur pointed out, "not just wet."

That had been caused when Merlin had been thrown back by the Afanc's wave. When he'd hit the dirt floor, it had already been turned into a sloppy, brown mess.

"Erm... I tripped coming 'round to the gate," Merlin said. "And I rolled down the hill. All the way." _Let's see if he falls for it..._

Arthur snorted. "Really, Merlin. I think you're the clumsiest person I know," he laughed, slapping his manservant on the shoulder, only to realize that Merlin's shoulder was just as dirty as the rest of him. He looked at his muddy hand in disgust.

"But what about you, sire?" Merlin asked innocently. "You're covered in mud as well."

"And who's to blame for that?" Arthur asked dangerously.

"You. You didn't look both directions before- OW!" Merlin yelled, rubbing the spot on his arm where Arthur had punched him.

Feeling slightly better, the prince continued his strict pace. "My appearance doesn't matter, Merlin. My father needs to hear this, no matter how much I'd prefer it if I hadn't run into you," he said. "Besides, I already have the perfect punishment."

Merlin sighed.

"The stables?" he asked, grimacing.

Arthur smiled. "The stables, Merlin," he affirmed.

O o O

"Boy! Run and fetch Gaius," Uther ordered, glaring at Merlin's disheveled form. "We'll see if he knows anything of this... abomination." All eyes roamed to the broken egg sitting in the center of the floor.

"Yes, sire," Merlin said with a slight bow, before turning on his heels and walking out of the throne room. Technically, he was supposed to back out, but he didn't really think anyone would care.

He hurried down the hallways, not particularly caring to spend an hour in the stocks because he kept royalty waiting.

"_Merlin!_"

Merlin grimaced. That was the fifth time he'd heard Kilgharrah's voice since he'd destroyed the Afanc. Due to the dragon's rather irritated tone, Merlin was slightly nervous to answer, since it probably meant that he had done something wrong.

The dragon was one of the only beings who could still make Lord Merlin Emrys feel like a child.

Resolving to see Kilgharrah as soon as he could, Merlin pushed his way into Gaius's chambers. The dead bodies had been taken away for burial. In their places, lain out on the tables and floors, were seven more victims.

"Merlin!" Gaius exclaimed, rushing over to his ward. "You're all right! And a downright mess, if I may say so."

"I'd agree," Merlin said, patting his matted hair. "When did they start recovering?" He nodded towards the sleeping people. Their skin was more pale than blue, and their sleep seemed to be natural, rather than potion-induced.

"About a half hour ago,"Gaius said.

"Good, it worked then," Merlin said.

"How battling the Afanc go? Looks like you took quite a hit at some point," Gaius said, chuckling.

"I'll have to tell you later, Gaius," Merlin said, beckoning for the physician to follow him. "Uther wants you in the throne room to identify the Afanc's capsule, or egg, is what they're calling it."

Gaius stopped in mid-step. "Merlin, I can't go telling Uther it was an Afanc causing the sickness. Then we'd have to explain what happened to it!"

"Just follow me, and I'll explain how this is going to work," Merlin assured the old man. He smiled encouragingly. "Believe me, I've planned this all out."

Gaius clicked his tongue. "Merlin, you have a devious side to you that I doubt few will ever be privileged to see."

"Or cursed," Merlin agreed, strutting slightly as he walked down the hall. To the servants who never got to see his compassionate and caring side, Merlin appeared to be a very arrogant young man. They always turned their noses at him, jabbing him with their thoughts of '_Just because you're Prince Arthur's manservant doesn't mean you own the place_'. He could hardly help it though. He'd lived in Camelot for the majority of his life now, knew every nook and cranny of the city, and had sacrificed so much for its safety, that it was hard not to walk around like he owned it.

"So, what's this amazing plan of yours?" Gaius asked quietly.

"We don't tell Uther about the Afanc," Merlin said, in an equally low voice. "We simply tell him that the egg was the cause. Once it was taken out of the water, the victims who weren't dead were cured."

"Then why did you make me come up with a fake remedy?" Gaius asked, snapping slightly. He might have been able to go after Merlin if he hadn't had to keep the pretense of administering medicine to his patients.

"Well, I didn't know I was going to find anything to blame the plague on," Merlin defended. "That was my back-up plan."

"How thoughtful," the physician said with a hint of sarcasm.

"I know it was," Merlin said, with a grin. Then he continued on with his plan, words pouring out of his mouth in a waterfall. "Now, I know that the sorcerer who conjured the Afanc has put their mark somewhere on the egg. You may be able to recognize whose it is since there can't be many powerful magic users left in Albion – myself aside of course."

"Of course," Gaius replied blandly. He was struggling to keep up to pace with the energetic youth.

"And even if you don't know who it is, you can simply tell Uther that whoever it is must have fled the kingdom already, once their plan was discovered. That way, the king will have to call off the search – if we're lucky that is. We'll just have to hope the king isn't feeling particularly grumpy today."

Gaius looked over at Merlin, who was smiling airily.

"You know, my boy," he said as they neared the throne room, "you amaze me sometimes. I'm still not even sure how you managed to kill off that Afanc."

Merlin grinned.

"When your mother finds out, she may just come to Camelot and kill us both," Gaius remarked.

Before Merlin could reply, their presences were announced and they walked into the throne room.

"_Merlin!_" Kilgharrah's voice roared telepathically.

Merlin sighed. It looked like supper and a bath were going to have to wait.

O o O

The dragon was already waiting for him on the rocky island when Merlin came out of the tunnel. The explanation Gaius fed Uther worked really well. Even when Uther had inquired as to the broken state of the shell, Gaius had immediately replied that it was due to the magic 'forcing itself into the water'. And the old man had called _Merlin_ devious...

"Merlin," the dragon said loudly. "I want you to explain to me the large amounts of magic that were released earlier this day."

Merlin frowned. Surely Kilgharrah already knew the reason? Still he answered, "The witch, Nimueh, put an Afanc in Camelot's waters. I just destroyed it."

The dragon snaked his head so he was looking in Merlin's eyes.

"Now tell me young warlock," he said in that annoying voice, "how exactly does this defer from the last time you went through this?"

Merlin, still frowning, answered, "Last time it took Gaius and I longer to figure out, I suppose. Plus, Arthur and Morgana came with me last time to destroy the monster."

"The Afanc causes a terrible illness, does it not?" the dragon asked.

Merlin still couldn't see what the whole point of this conversation was.

"Yes," he said. "Which is why I destroyed it immediately, so there would be fewer victims."

"Ah!" the dragon rumbled. The air shook at his exclamation. "So how many people would you guess you have saved from this curse, Merlin, because you are from the future?"

"Over fifty, I think," Merlin said.

There was a moment of silence.

Merlin's eyes widened.

"Oh," he said quietly.

"'Oh', indeed," Kilgharrah snapped. "Do you realize the unrest you could have caused? The damage you could have done? Now we can be certain that this is the shadow universe, or else time itself would be in chaos. Your memories would be changing and in all likelihood, a paradox would be formed."

Merlin was smacking his forehead over and over again.

"I don't know much about time magic," the dragon said, "but I do know that there are very few creatures in this universe – let alone planet Earth – who can safely travel through time without being very diligent to keep in place certain set events. Event the simple removal of a loaf of bread from its intended place can cause irreparable damages if it is significant enough."

Merlin set his jaw and said quietly, but firmly, "Kilgharrah, I know this will be hard for you to understand. Even in the future, after you know me better, it will be hard for you to understand. Yes, I wasn't thinking, and for that I apologize."

He took a deep breath. "But to be so powerful and with the ability to help so many people, then to turn against those same people in their time of need? I could not do it. _ I will not_."

Kilgharrah growled.

Then he roared, hot air blasting some of the mud out of Merlin's hair. "Young warlock! You would have doomed us all! So much more would have been at stake than the mere lives of fifty mortals."

"_Mere_?" Merlin roared back.

But the dragon was not finished.

"You are handling a power you do not understand!" Kilgharrah almost sounded resentful at this. "Do not presume to put the lives of a mere few over so many."

Merlin fell back onto the ground, and just sat there, contemplating the great beast looming before him. A silence fell between them.

Finally Merlin sighed. "You are right about one thing. I do not understand my power. I doubt I will, even after I live to be a thousand," he said, his voice cracking.

Kilgharrah almost looked pitying for a moment.

"So you are aware then?" he asked.

"That my life is tied to that of magic's? Yes. That I will outlive everyone I have grown to know and love? Yes," Merlin's voice turned bitter. "I couldn't help but figure it out after I turned forty.

"I still looked like I was in my twenties. Everyone else was gaining weight, and wrinkles, and graying hairs. They made fun of me, even envied me slightly, but they all think I was just lucky."

"Did you tell the young Pendragon?" Kilgharrah breathed, almost gently.

"No," Merlin said sadly. "I put my body under an aging spell – one that you gave me, actually. Once Arthur is gone, it will wear off. It is strange to see my hair back to black again. I suppose this is what it will be like when the time comes."

Merlin sighed.

"Your path will be a lonely one," Kilgharrah agreed. "But I do not think you should despair so fully."

"I try not to think about it, honestly," Merlin said. "One day, I'll have to face the facts. But not now."

Kilgharrah nodded.

Merlin smiled slightly.

Then he said, unable to help himself, "I just got you off-topic. Did you _see_ that? I'm declaring that a definite victory."

Kilgharrah frowned, but he didn't look angry.

"Even though you are in the beginning of your twilight years as a human, young warlock, you still retain the maturity of a hatchling," the dragon snorted.

"Compliment noted," Merlin said. "I have the rest of my life to gain maturity. I'm already wise – or so Arthur tells me when he's not calling me an idiot – so why add maturity to the list?"

"Interesting philosophy," the dragon said dully. "I almost fear for this world."

"Came up with it during a prank war couple years back," Merlin said, grinning. "I won."


	8. Merlin is NOT in love with Gwen

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Merlin_**

**A/N: Another complicated time travel talk... hope it makes sense (and that it's not too boring, heaven forbid). And Merlin isn't looking for a necromancer yet, after all. Something unexpected added itself to my plot.**

**VOTE ON THE POLL, PEOPLE!  
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><p>Merlin was forced (not that he minded, really) to leave Kilgharrah's cave soon after their short conversation, mostly because he didn't want Gaius to toss his supper. "I'll be back as soon as Gaius is asleep," he promised. He was sighing inwardly, readying himself for another long night of sleep deprivation.<p>

When he reentered his rooms, Gaius looked up from his work and asked, "Did they manage to get Arthur's armor fixed?"

Merlin gave his mentor a look of confusion.

Gaius raised his eyebrow. "You told me you were going to the blacksmith's," the old man reminded, a frown beginning to form.

Merlin grimaced. Oops. So he swallowed uneasily and said in the most certain tone he could manage, "Well, I did – kind of. I was going to anyways... I swear! But I ran into Gwen on the way and I guess we got to talking..." He shrugged guiltily.

Gaius nodded knowingly. "Surprising how much a pretty face can distract you from your chores," he chuckled.

Merlin balked.

"But somehow I doubt Arthur will be quite so understanding," Gaius continued, oblivious to Merlin's conflicted feelings.

Merlin sat down at the table, a concentrated look on his face. "Hang on," he said, raising a finger. "Do you think I like Gwen? As in, a _romantic_ way?"

"Don't you?" Gaius asked.

Merlin immediately stuck out his tongue and made a gagging noise. "Ugh, no! Don't be disgusting, Gaius!"

Gaius frowned and scolded, "I think Gwen is a very pretty girl, Merlin. Don't be so harsh on her."

Merlin's eyes widened; that wasn't what he meant at all! "No! No!" he said hurriedly. "I think Gwen is lovely! She's absolutely one of the most amazing women I know! Just not... romantically. Definitely not romantically."

Gaius looked at him suspiciously. "If you say so Merlin."

"I do say so," the warlock said firmly, wanting to be clear on this. "Besides, do you know what Arthur would _do_ to me if I ever thought of Gwen in that way? He'd kill me slowly, bring me back to life, then kill me again."

Merlin didn't realize what he'd said until after he'd said it.

"Arthur? What does Arthur have to do with this?" Gaius questioned, looking surprised.

"Nothing," Merlin said quickly. "Can I have my supper now? You did save me some, right?"

"Merlin..."

O o O

"I think Gaius is getting suspicious," Merlin said, soon after he reentered the dragon's prison.

"Not terribly surprising," Kilgharrah said dully.

Merlin snorted. "I suppose I could try harder, but really, it's much easier to be myself," he admitted. "The main problem is what I'm going to tell him. He's bound to start asking questions sometime."

Kilgharrah's large eyes narrowed. "Whatever you do, I suggest you keep the shadow aspect of this reality to yourself. Most people do not take kindly to the idea that they aren't real."

"Is that what that means?" Merlin asked, frowning. "None of this is real?" he gestured around.

"This is all very real, young warlock," Kilgharrah assured. "Not in the way most people would define 'real' however."

Merlin ground his teeth thoughtfully. In the past, he probably would have demanded an immediate explanation from the dragon, usually resulting in a full-blown shouting match. Meekly, he learned long ago that Kilgharrah much preferred Merlin to figure things out by himself. Frustrating as it was, the warlock grudgingly admitted that he learned better when it was done this way. Not that he particularly liked the process.

Frowning in concentration, Merlin decided that the first order of business would be to try and recall exactly what the book had said on shadow universes. The chapter on time travel had been over six-hundred dusty pages long, and Merlin had speed-read through the section in less than twenty-four hours. He would be lucky if he remembered anything at all. Maybe if he'd gone at a slower pace, some of the information might have actually stuck. _I wouldn't be caught in this mess in the first place_, Merlin thought gloomily.

After several minutes of pacing, Merlin managed to come a muddled conclusion, which he decided to present to Kilgharrah, no matter the ridicule that followed.

"I think the shadow universe exists independent of the real time line, but the real time line affects all its actions," he proceeded cautiously. Time and space were a very difficult concept to explain, even on the most basic of levels. "Only a person from the real time line has the ability to change the actions and destinies of the people in this universe. In this case, I would be that person."

The dragon didn't interrupt him or laugh evilly, so Merlin decided he must have gotten at least some of his theories right.

"But what I don't know," he admitted, "Is why I took the place of myself, or how exactly the changes I've made are going to affect the real time line. They are going to affect it, aren't they?"

The dragon sighed.

"Very likely," he said finally. "I must admit, although I have a basic grasp on the topic we are discussing, it is not complete."

"But you have several theories..." Merlin prodded.

"Of course," the dragon chuckled.

"So why do you think I've taken the place of myself?" Merlin asked.

"A possible variation in the pronunciation of the spell could have been the cause for that," Kilgharrah said, looking amused. "Can you remember exactly what you said?"

"No," Merlin scoffed. "The spell was so long that it took nearly three minutes to get through!"

"You may need to remember," Kilgharrah warned, "if you want to get back to your own time."

Merlin blanched.

"How am I supposed to do that?" he asked incredulously.

"I can give you a spell that can recall lost memories," Kilgharrah said.

Merlin's eyes widened excitedly. "Really?" he exclaimed. "How does it work? I could try and duplicate it in my spare time – if I ever get any spare time that is."

"So you are finally learning the physics behind different spells," the dragon said, looking pleased. "This will help you greatly when it comes to understanding your true power."

"Don't I know it," Merlin agreed. "I find that I don't even need the words to most spells, now, just as long as I can knit the magic into the right pattern. The spell is usually a lot more powerful that way – which is why I have to be sure that I'm doing it right."

"Very good. So you can see the magic web, then? This a feat few humans ever manage to accomplish. Though, in the beginning of the Old Religion, it was more common to see sorcerers use this approach."

Merlin nodded. "I have been able to 'see' the magic since I was a boy. I didn't actually realize what I was doing until about ten years ago, though," he said. That had been one of the most exciting days of his life actually, not counting the day when magic was unbanned from Camelot. So much of what he did as a magic user was suddenly making sense.

Kilgharrah was nodding, the closest thing the dragon could get to a smile adorning his face.

"As soon as our conversation is finished, I will give you the memory spell. You may be overwhelmed by old memories for the next few days until it settles," the dragon warned. "When it is done, I want you to remember exactly how you pronounced the spell, then write it phonetically."

Merlin stuck out his tongue. "But that could take hours!"

"Do it, Merlin," the dragon ordered, "before pieces of the memory begin to fade. It may be the key to getting you back to your own world."

"Fine," the warlock said sulkily, adding the job to his chore list.

Then he froze.

"Wait a minute," Merlin tilted his head and asked, "If you have a memory spell, why can't I just use it to remember what I read?"

"Because it's highly doubtful that you read every word, young warlock," the dragon explained patiently. "You may try, but there will likely be large gaps in your memory. Not even the spell can remember everything. Besides, it works much better with sound than it does visually."

Merlin switched topics. He wasn't going to argue with Kilgharrah on this one. After all, he could try remembering as soon as he got the spell. "So what's your other theory? How do you think this world will affect the real one?"

"The events that you change here, will probably manifest themselves in dreams and feelings," the dragon explained. "If you change something too much, a person may suddenly wake up feeling like an entirely different person – and they won't be able to explain why."

"But what will happen to this world when I leave? Will it still be here, or will it fade?" Merlin asked hesitantly. If it was going to fade, did that mean that no one here was actually real? But Kilgharrah had seemed sure that everyone was. Maybe that was just because Kilgharrah felt like he was a real. Merlin didn't know how to respond to the possibility of everything being a shadow.

Conflicted, Merlin met the dragon's eyes.

"That, young warlock, is a question I cannot answer," the dragon said truthfully. "I think it would be a good idea if you began the search for that book."

Merlin nodded.

"Right," he said, with more firmness than he felt.

O o O

Due to the stupid memory spell, Merlin slept less than two hours before the sun hit his face. He hauled himself out of bed, grudgingly admitting that not even he could sleep in much longer.

Plus, he was suddenly remembering a bunch of useless things, like the incident from three months ago:

_King Arthur was looking very undignified, Merlin thought, pointing and laughing like that. Of course, everyone else was laughing as well, making the whole situation all the more embarrassing. Gwen was trying to hide her giggles, but her shoulders were shaking, giving her away._

_ Merlin sighed and looked down at his navy blue robes. How was he to know that conjuring up your clothes had such an ill effect? It's not like anyone had ever done it before._

_ The blue background was now covered in white concave-decagons, and someone had the boldness to proclaim (_Gwaine_, Merlin thought, eyes narrowed) that he looked like the night sky._

"Are you all right, Merlin?" Gaius asked, his voice concerned.

Merlin realized he'd been staring into space with a horrified expression on his face. He shook his head to snap out of it.

"I'm not sure," he told Gaius wearily. "I didn't sleep well last night."

The physician patted his shoulder.

O o O

Merlin felt off for several days after Kilgharrah's spell. With memories popping up at random, even in the middle of the night, the warlock was finding it very difficult to sleep, let alone finish any of any of his chores. It didn't help that Uther was constantly lecturing Arthur on his inadequacies, which tended to make the prince short-tempered and violent.

When Arthur found Merlin slumped on _his_ bed, sleeping soundly, the prince went berserk.

Merlin awoke when his body hit the floor with a resounding thump.

"Wha...?" he groaned, finding himself on the stone tiles. He rolled onto his back, only to meet Arthur's livid eyes.

"I was supposed to have my formal attire assembled by now," the prince hissed, his voice hitting Merlin's ears like a whip. "And where do I find you? Sleeping."

Merlin didn't answer. He was too tired.

Arthur bent over and grabbed the cuff of his manservant's shirt; with an undignified snarl, he yanked Merlin to his feet. Merlin was forced to grab the bed canopy's pole to steady himself.

"Lord Reginald's party is practically on our front steps, _Mer_lin," the prince spat. Merlin winced, his head still banging from being knocked against the floor. "My father expects me to be there."

"Arthur..." he tried to keep his voice steady, but he could tell it was slurring.

"That's 'Sire' to you!" the prince retorted angrily.

Merlin sighed. "Sire," he didn't even have it in him to be sarcastic. For some reason, this only made Arthur angrier.

He whirled on his feet and stomped towards the window. Merlin watched the younger version of his best friend stare down into the courtyard. He was obviously watching the noblemen of Camelot gather on the steps to greet the incoming noble.

Merlin took in a deep breath.

"Arthur," he said firmly, but he was hesitating in his step as he walked towards the prince. "You still have time. Your father won't even know you were rushed."

"He already knows," Arthur said. He turned to give Merlin a solemn look. "He caught me on my way up here, and gave me a lecture on being 'a proper prince'," Arthur's tone became bitter.

Merlin sighed. One of these days he was going to release that goblin and pay the thing to plague King Uther.

"Arthur, you are your own man," Merlin said firmly. "No man, not even the king himself, should be able to dictate what is proper behavior for you. You're a good person. I don't think it will ruin anyone's pride if you're running late, especially if you end up making it on time anyway."

While Arthur considered his words of wisdom, Merlin went over to the wardrobe to pick out the prince's formal outfit – and yes, he _had_ cleaned it (two weeks before).

"Besides," Merlin added, in a much lighter tone. He approached Arthur, who was still staring at him thoughtfully. "It's not like being late is a bad thing... I mean, look at me!"

Arthur threw a pillow at him.

O o O

Lord Reginald had a pleasurable experience visiting the castle, and told Uther so. He had also been exceptionally impressed by Prince Arthur and had forced his son to follow the bemused prince around for nearly the entire stay. Merlin had felt sorry for the visiting nobleman's son, but the episode had boosted Arthur's morale impeccably, for which Merlin was exceedingly grateful. Uther had noticed as well and ended up treating Arthur with much more respect than he had in weeks.

Good feelings all around, Merlin decided with a happy sigh.

To Merlin's surprise, the day after Reginald left, Arthur gave Merlin the afternoon off. Apparently the king wanted to go horseback riding with his son, an activity neither of them had done together in years. So as soon as Merlin had saddled Arthur's horse, he found himself with a free afternoon – unless Gaius found out, of course.

Wandering randomly through the lower town, Merlin made a to-do list in his head, arranged by highest priority:

1) Protect Arthur and Camelot

2) Make sure Arthur isn't being a prat

3) Transcribe that time travel spell using Kilgharrah's memory spell

4) Set up an underground network to help convicted sorcerers

5) Find Nimueh before she tries to poison you

6) Find a necromancer

7) Find Balinor

8) Muck out the stables

Since the first two were already done (for now, anyways), and because he really didn't feel like using the new memory spell just yet, Merlin decided it would be best if he went on to number four. If he were lucky, he might even be able to get on with numbers five and six at the same time.

"Merlin!"

Merlin twisted on his heels. "Gwen," he said with a smile, meeting the girl's gaze. She was running to catch up to him, a basket piled high with clothes under her arm.

"Hello," she said, breathing hard. "I hear you got the afternoon off."

"Yep," Merlin said. "Best day ever."

Gwen chuckled. "So what are you going to do with all your free time?" she inquired.

Merlin shrugged. "Eat first, I suppose. Then I'll probably relax and hope Gaius doesn't find me," he said. "He enjoys giving me chores almost as much as Arthur."

Gwen laughed.

"So what are _you_ doing?" he asked. "Mending?" He gestured at the basket full of clothes.

Gwen nodded. "But I have the rest of the day off as well," she said quickly. "Morgana knows that I'm good friends with you, and when she found that you had gotten a free afternoon, she gave me one as well. So..."

Merlin tilted his head, waiting. He supposed that if Gwen wanted to spend her afternoon with him, he wasn't going to say no – list or no list. Then he scowled mentally. That would probably only increase everyone's suspicions of a romantic relationship, wouldn't it?

He sighed.

"What's wrong?" Gwen asked, she looked slightly stricken.

"What?" he asked. "Oh, sorry, I was only thinking of the stables – Arthur's ordered me to muck them out at some point."

Gwen pursed her lips. "Isn't that supposed to be the stable boy's job?"

"I know!" Merlin exclaimed. "I wish you would explain that to Arthur, the overbearing prat."

Gwen giggled.

"So," Merlin said, bouncing on his heels. "Would you like to go on a picnic, then? I think I have enough money saved up..."

"Don't think I'm not contributing too!" Gwen scolded. Merlin held up his hands. Her frown morphed into a smile. "But yes, Merlin. Thank you. A picnic would be lovely."

"Here," Merlin said, and he took the basket of clothes from her. Gwen tried to protest but he quickly silenced her with a look. "Let's get rid of this, then grab some food. And let's hurry, shall we? I'm positively starving!"

Gwen was forced to walk quickly in order to keep up with Merlin's long strides.

O o O

"Where are you going?" Gaius asked as Merlin zoomed around his chambers, gathering supplies.

"On a picnic with Gwen," Merlin answered, discarding a rotten apple.

"Purely platonic I'm sure," the physician said slyly, lifting up a beaker and swirling its contents around.

Merlin froze. He sent Gaius a death glare.

"Yes. Pla-ton-ic," he emphasized. He lifted a pile of books out of a wicker basket. That would be useful.

"Does Gwen know that?" Gaius asked innocently.

"Of course," Merlin replied instantly.

Gaius raised his eyebrows.

Merlin looked up slowly and his eyes widened. He was remembering all those moments when she'd stop in the market to stare at him as he passed or when she'd stop to give him flowers. Merlin remembered her, as queen, laughing with the knights when she told them about her crush on Merlin as a young woman. Then, of course Arthur had been very sulky the rest of the evening, particularly after she told everyone that Merlin had been the first man she'd ever kissed.

"She's in love with me, isn't she?" he groaned, a sinking feeling in his chest.

"If her actions are anything to go by," Gaius said wisely.

Merlin found the nearest wall and banged his head against it.

"Merlin, don't you think you're overreacting a bit?" Gaius asked.

"Not really, to be completely honest," Merlin said, eyes narrowed.

Gaius raised his eyebrows. "You aren't betrothed or anything, are you?" he asked. It was possible he supposed, though he would've thought that Hunith would have mentioned something.

"What?" came his ward's incredulous reply, destroying that theory.

"Then what's wrong with Gwen liking you?" the physician demanded.

Merlin sighed and he rubbed his forehead, trying to get rid of the stress lines. This wasn't going to work. Unless he wanted to tell Gaius the whole truth, there was no way any of his excuses would work.

"Nothing," he mumbled.

"Then what was all that head-banging nonsense?" Gaius demanded, gesturing at the wall.

"Just feeling awkward, I guess," Merlin replied, which wasn't entirely false.

Gaius snorted. "If you're nervous, Merlin, just let me tell you now: when it comes to romance, you have to start somewhere."

"But it's not starting with Gwen!" Merlin said, pointing a warning finger his mentor. "Stop trying to pair us up!"

"I'm not trying to pair anyone," the physician said grumpily. "Just be nice."

Merlin growled, "I'm always nice."

"Ha!"

"To Gwen, anyway!" Merlin added, then slapped his forehead, realizing what that sounded like.

"Uh-huh," Gaius said. "Now, Merlin. Run along. I have work to do and don't need you to bumble around, interrupting me."

Merlin frowned.

Feeling sulky, Merlin grabbed the wicker basket, a couple clean plates, and hurried out of the stuffy room. Him! In love with Gwen! It'd be like being in love with his mother, Merlin decided, and he honestly couldn't tell which situation would be worse. Okay... maybe that was an exaggeration. But still!

Grumbling to himself, Merlin almost ran into Gwen, who was waiting for him in the courtyard.

"Anything wrong?" she asked, noting his stormy expression.

Merlin glanced at her wide, dark eyes and gulped. He would just have to try and act normally, he figured. "Just took a while to find a basket is all," he said with a forced smile.

"Right," Gwen said, looking skeptical but not wanting to push him.

"Ready to find some food?" he asked, offering her his arm. She took it, the concern in her eyes disappearing with his smile.

"Of course," she said.

O o O

Gwen was laid out on the grass, while Merlin was sitting, staring into the trees. Merlin had led Guinevere to a secluded meadow on the outskirts of the forests, bordering one of the farms. Wild flowers littered the clearing and Merlin considered it one of the most peaceful places in Camelot. Not many people went there because it took nearly an hour's worth of walking to reach, but it was still close enough to not be a major expedition.

Aside from Gwen's blatant blushes and obvious attempts at flirting (at least the were obvious _now_), Merlin had considered the picnic a success. They had even gotten bargain prices on the food, due to Gwen's marvelous haggling skills.

"I could stay here forever," Gwen said contentedly, her eyes closed.

"It might rain," Merlin joked.

Gwen giggled and opened her eyes so she could look at him.

"What would you do," she asked seriously, "if you could be anything or do anything that you wanted?"

Merlin had actually thought over this question many times in his life. If destiny hadn't inferred, if he had stayed in Ealdor, what might have happened? As the most powerful warlock to ever live, Merlin actually had more options than anyone alive.

"I think," he said slowly, "that I would be exactly who I am, right now."

Gwen tilted her head so she could see him better. A forget-me-not was tangling up in her hair. "Really?" she asked, sounding surprised.

Merlin smiled.

"What about you?" he asked, leaning forward. "What would you do?"

Gwen's eyes wandered to the clouds above her. "When I was little, I always wanted to be a traveling minstrel."

Merlin laughed. Gwen knew he wasn't laughing at her, so she smiled and laughed along with him.

"Me and Elyan – you know I have an older brother, right?" Gwen suddenly inquired, when Merlin nodded, she continued. "Me and Elyan used to sneak into the tavern late at night to listen to the minstrels who passed through our town. I think everyone knew we were there, but I remember thinking at the time that we were so _sneaky_." She giggled at the memory.

"Are you musical at all?" Merlin asked. He'd never seen her try to play an instrument at all, and the only times he'd ever heard her sing were when she was trying to get children to sleep.

Gwen sighed. "No. Sometimes I wish I was, but then I think, what would I do with such a talent, anyways?" she asked, coming back to reality. "Now I realize that most minstrels are probably cold and hungry most of the time, traveling from place to place, hoping to earn at least enough to make it to the next town."

That explained why Queen Guinevere was always so welcoming and generous to the musicians who traveled to the court of Camelot.

"I imagine some of them do it voluntarily," Merlin said, considering. "There is a certain... freedom about their lifestyle."

Gwen nodded. "I think that's what I liked about it, more than the music even."

She let out a deep breath.

Merlin tilted his head. "You've told me what you _used_ to want to be," he pointed out, "but what about now? If you could be anything – do anything – in the whole, wide world, what would it be?"

Gwen shifted her position in the grass.

"Queen?" he put out.

Gwen laughed, "What? No! Do you think I'd like to be in the center of attention all the time, with everyone staring at me?"

"Plus, then you'd have to be married to Arthur," Merlin half-joked, half-hinted.

Gwen made a face.

"Or Uther," she added.

They both shuddered.

"New topic!" Merlin demanded. Gwen laughed again.

"All right. All right," she said. "If I had the power to be anything I wanted, I'd be..." she thought for a moment, "...Don't laugh, okay?"

"I swear," Merlin said, suddenly curious.

Gwen took a deep breath. "I'd be a physician."

Merlin looked down at her. "Really?" he asked, interested. "Like Gaius?"

Gwen nodded. "I mean, it's not even possible. For one thing, I'm a girl, and secondly, I'm not really good with all that herb-lore. I'm lucky that I even know how to read," she said, sounding resigned.

"But you're a really caring person, Gwen," Merlin said honestly. "I think you'd make a brilliant physician."

Gwen smiled. "That's very sweet of you, Merlin."

Merlin grinned back. Then he looked away quickly once he realized that she was blushing – and quite profusely too. How scary. Merlin wondered at what point Gwen stopped having a crush on him. Was it when Lancelot came? Merlin made a new goal to start looking for the knight, just in case.

A comfortable silence fell between the two friends. Gwen, because she was content for the moment, and Merlin, because he was in deep thought. As Merlin considered the swaying trees looming over them, a sudden thought hit him.

"We've talked about the weather, the flowers, Arthur being a prat, our jobs, and our dreams," Merlin listed out loud.

"Mm-hm," came the gentle response.

"What if we talk about something controversial?"

Gwen's head tilted. "Like what?" she asked cautiously.

"Gwen," Merlin began. "What are your views on magic?"

**DON'T FORGET TO VOTE! (THANKS IF YOU'VE ALREADY VOTED)**


	9. Meditation

**Diclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

**A/N: I'll probably be closing the poll in several days.  
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><p><em>"Gwen," Merlin began. "What are your views on magic?"<em>

Merlin stared at her, waiting for her response. She looked uncomfortable, as though the soft grass beneath her had dried into brittle needles.

"What if we talked about something else?" she suggested.

"Why?" Merlin persisted. "I'm sure you have an opinion."

Gwen sat up, bits of grass sticking out of her hair. "Merlin!" she hissed. "Magic is illegal. I've seen people die because they mentioned it so casually."

Merlin smiled. "We're in an open field, Gwen. No one is around."

Gwen shifted, glancing into the trees behind him, as though Uther's guards were just waiting for her to say something before they came bounding out of the forrest.

C'mon," he prodded. "What do you think of magic?"

Gwen bit her lip.

"You first," she finally said.

Merlin narrowed his eyes, smiling crookedly. "Fine. But you're not getting out of this," he said accusingly. He pulled up a blade of grass.

"We'll see," she said, allowing herself a small smile.

Merlin fiddled with the string of green, weaving it between his fingers. "I think that magic is one of the most amazing things in this world," he said with conviction. Gwen's eyes widened.

Smiling widely, Merlin stared off into the distance. In such a peaceful setting, he hardly needed to relax at all to reach for the feeling of magic coursing through his veins, connecting with the earth, spreading to the flow of nature around him. It was like dipping into a cool pool of water on a hot summer's day.

"Uther seems certain that magic is evil," Gwen reminded.

Merlin laughed.

With the way he was connected with magic, several of the birds nearby reacted to the sound and burst into song.

"Magic is about as evil as..." Merlin ground his teeth, trying to some up with a proper similie. He leaned forward and looked Gwen in the eyes. "I've heard people say that magic is like a sword – that only the user can decide how it's used."

Gwen nodded slowly. She could see that.

But Merlin shook his head. "But it's not; magic is very much alive. Swords are weapons, they were made to kill things. Magic just _is_... like a forget-me-not, I suppose." He picked one of the little blue flowers and held it in front of his eyes.

"I've seen people use magic terrible things," Gwen said, sounding uncertain. She picked a flower of her own. "Forget-me-nots aren't very dangerous."

Merlin grimaced. "Okay," he admitted, and threw the flower over his shoulder. "Maybe it's not like a flower. Um... what about fire? It can destroy, but it can also bring life."

Gwen considered this. "Maybe," she said uncertainly.

"I know what you mean – there just simply isn't a good metaphor for magic," Merlin said with a sigh, purposefully misinterpreting her reaction.

"How do you know so much about magic?" Gwen asked hesitantly.

"Ealdor is in Cenred's kingdom. Magic isn't illegal there," he said in a roundabout way, not really answering the question. He leaned forward. "So...? What about you? I answered first, just like you wanted."

Gwen pushed her dark curls behind her ear.

"I- I don't really know," she said nervously, not meeting his gaze.

"Do you think magic is evil?" he asked, his eyes boring into her head.

"No," Gwen said quickly, glancing up for a split second. Then she looked back down at the grass. "At least, I'm fairly certain that it's not."

Merlin smiled.

"I mean," she continued, looking up and this time meeting his eyes, "Uther may have convicted _some_ bad people, but..." She took a deep breath.

"...not all of them were evil," Merlin finished for her, hope coursing throughout him.

Gwen nodded. "Some of them were children," she said sadly. "They didn't seem evil to _me_."

"Then they probably weren't," Merlin said kindly. He went on to say, staring off in the distance, a sudden hardness in his voice, "Sometimes I hate Uther, when I think about the things that he's done, the pain and suffering he's caused." He sighed.

"But...?" Gwen prompted.

"But he's not a completely horrible person," Merlin admitted grudgingly. "He's just a bitter man who has too much power. We could do far worse than Uther Pendragon."

"But we could also do far better," Gwen said with conviction.

Merlin gave Gwen a significant look. "Truer words have never been spoken," he said, thinking of Arthur.

"Merlin, why did you want to talk about magic?" Gwen asked, her eyes narrowed.

Merlin shrugged. "No reason."

Gwen pursed her lips. "Come on Merlin, there has to be a reason," she said.

Merlin stayed silent.

"Merlin," she said, this time it was a command.

Merlin licked his lips. "I feel lonely sometimes," he said honestly.

"Why?" she demanded.

"Because magic is something that I have been used to seeing, used to living with my entire life, and now..." he trailed off, not sure where he should go with this. There was a large part of him that wanted to tell her what he was. It was killing him to see the people suffering from maladies and disasters that he could fix with a snap of his fingers. Merlin was practically desperate for someone who could scheme with him, someone who would sit still while he ranted about the problems converging around him. While Gaius was a sympathetic listener, he was too unyielding in his opinion that keeping Merlin safe was the top priority.

Gwen had a funny look on her face. "Do you really miss magic so much?" she asked.

"All the time," he answered.

Gwen frowned. "Are you going to do anything about it?" she asked, staring at him with an intensity that would unnerve most people.

Merlin shifted.

"Look Merlin," she said, reaching out and grabbing his hands, "you have to move on. No matter what you think or what I think, magic is still illegal. You should let these feelings go – I mean, what if someone found out? If you get hurt..."

Gwen took a deep breath. "I hate to admit it, especially after hearing you talk about it with such... passion, but magic scares me," she said, looking miserable.

Merlin smiled sideways and pulled his hands from out of her grasp. "I know," he said shortly. "It scares most people in Camelot. Uther has instilled these fears within the younger generations, and I imagine they'll stay for a very long time."

Gwen looked down at her hands, ashamed.

"Guinevere," Merlin said, lifting her chin, like a parent trying to cheer up a weary child. She looked into his eye. "I don't blame you; it's Uther's fault, not yours. Besides, it's only a silly subject – nothing to do with us, eh?" he reminded her, a fake smile on his face.

Gwen let out a weak laugh. "Only a silly subject, huh?" she asked.

"As long as no one else is listening," he replied with a smile.

Maybe he would tell her later. But not yet. She wasn't ready to be alienated as the only other person to know his secret. Plus, Merlin mused, Gwen did have a tendency to overtly worry herself when Merlin's welfare was involved. If she found out he had magic, she would probably spend her nights pacing the floor, wondering when someone would find out.

"I think it's time to go," Merlin said, pulling himself to his feet. He lent Gwen a hand. "I want to have those stables mucked out before it gets dark."

"And I have mending to do," she said with a sigh, but she was smiling.

"So, did you have a good afternoon off?" Merlin asked, looking at her sideways.

"Absolutely, thank you," she replied, bobbing.

"Good," he said firmly.

O o O

"So how did the picnic go?" Gaius asked casually.

"Good," Merlin replied, putting the dishes into a bucket, so he'd remember to wash them later.

"Really?" Gaius questioned; he was fishing for details.

Merlin would not be baited. "Yes, the weather was great," he said. "Gwen and I had a fun time."

"Purely platonic?" Gaius teased.

Merlin frowned. "Quite," he said without emotion, shoving the basket back into the cupboard.

"Even for Gwen?" he asked.

Merlin turned on the spot and glared at his mentor. Then his expression softened. "Maybe not," he said quietly. He gave Gaius a pained smile. "What should I do?"

When Gaius realized that his ward was being serious, he set down the bottles he'd been mixing and sat down at the table. "Can you not find it in you to like her at all?" he inquired.

Merlin flinched. He took a seat across from the physician. "No. I love Gwen as a sister, and that's the only love I'll ever hold for her," he said.

Gaius was silent for a few moments.

"This may be hard for you to understand," Merlin continued carefully, "but with all I have to do around here – protecting Arthur, doing chores for Arthur, doing errands for you – adding romance into the mix would just be chaotic."

Gaius nodded slowly.

"Plus," Merlin added sneakily, "if I _did_ feel that way about Gwen, I'd probably want to tell her my secret."

Gaius narrowed his eyes. "Merlin..." he warned.

Merlin grinned. "I know," he said.

"I'm not going to," he added quietly.

O o O

"Merlin, what on earth are you _doing_?" the prince asked in the loud, obnoxious tone he used whenever he was getting ready to pick on Merlin.

The thread of magic Merlin had been following vanished, and his mind was unwillingly dragged back to the dim interior of his bedroom. He mentally cursed. He'd been so _close_!

"Merlin!" Arthur shouted.

Merlin grudgingly opened his eyes. "I'm trying to relax," he said testily, emphasizing the 'trying' part of the sentence.

Arthur snorted. "This is no time for relaxing, _Mer_lin. King Bayard and his envoy are expected to arrive here in five days," he reminded pompously. "I want you to report to the head of staff and offer your services."

Merlin made a face. Gilroy was the head of staff, and he was the pickiest person Merlin knew; which was probably the reason the man liked George so much. "But I still have all the chores you gave me!" he exclaimed. "You're not letting me off are you?" he asked hopefully.

"Of course not," Arthur said. "I still need someone to bring me breakfast, and clean my chambers, and draw my bath..."

Merlin put his hands up. "All right, all right. I get the idea," he growled.

Arthur folded his arms and tapped his feet.

"What?" Merlin asked, unnerved by the stare.

"Merlin, you are still on your bed," Arthur said, eyebrows raised. "Get off."

"Now?" Merlin complained.

"Yes."

"But its almost time for bed!" he declared.

Arthur smiled. "Correction. It's almost time for _me_ to go to bed. You on the other hand..."

Merlin glared at Arthur. "I hate you sometimes."

Arthur gave him a pinched smile. "Merlin," he warned.

Merlin hauled himself to his feet. "One day, I'm going to fall over dead from exhaustion. And do you know what? It will be all your fault," he ranted.

"Don't be stupid. You don't have that many responsibilities," Arthur said with a laugh, leading his grumbling manservant out of his quarters. "You're only a servant."

"Ha. Ha," Merlin said, eyes narrowed.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "To the kitchens, now," the prince said in a sing-song voice, pushing Merlin in the general direction. "Then come up in an hour and have a bath drawn for me, won't you?"

Merlin watched the prince strut in the opposite direction.

"Arrogant prathead," Merlin muttered under his breath. He was forced to count slowly backwards from ten, reminding himself that Arthur was still young. He'd only known Merlin for a month. The unicorn test could only happen if he actually managed to kill a unicorn. Gwen hadn't had the pleasure of lecturing him yet. Merlin twitched. He wondered if he should bring her in and have her do it now.

Groaning, he marched off towards the dining hall, which was the place Gilroy was most likely to be at that hour (which was _not_ located in or even by the kitchens, no matter what Arthur thought). He grudgingly reminded himself that he still had time to find the druids – even if he did come out looking like the living dead from the lack of sleep.

O o O

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, young warlock?" the dragon questioned, settling down on the island of rock.

"Nothing, really," Merlin said, letting the small wizard's light bob into the air above him. "I just need someplace quiet."

The dragon looked amused. "And you find the caverns underneath the castle to be the most quiet place in Camelot?"

"For the moment, _yes_," Merlin answered with an exasperated sighed.

"I suppose the news of the Mercian peace treaty has forced everyone into a tizzy fit," the dragon said with a laugh.

Merlin chuckled. "That's definitely one way of putting it. Even in the middle of the night, Gilroy has every servant in the castle scrubbing the walls, ceilings, and floors from top to bottom! Actually, if I didn't know better, I'd say the head of staff was a sorcerer. I swear he hasn't gone to sleep in over thirty-six hours."

"What are you supposed to be doing right now?" the dragon asked. "I cannot imagine Arthur letting you off so easily."

"Believe me, he isn't," Merlin said. "He gave me a mountain of chores to do the morning, along with Gilroy, and even _Gaius_, who knew I already had a million of other things to do. So I cheated and used magic just so I could get a half-hour break."

"Did you know?" he continued, looking Kilgharrah in the eye, "That I haven't had breakfast for a solid week? And I've missed supper twice."

"Very unfortunate, I'm sure," the dragon drawled.

Merlin snorted.

"Right, well, as long as I have a break, I am now officially going to finish this," he said, plopping himself down on the stone ground.

"Ah, meditation," the dragon said, recognizing the position Merlin was folding himself into, and more importantly, the subtle changes in the way magic flowed around the warlock as he prepared himself. "Most magic users learn the art of meditation to learn to control their magic to a better extent, but I assume you have a different reason?"

Merlin nodded. "When I started, it was because my levels to accessing magic were increasing, and I was having trouble controlling the large amount of power. Ha! I nearly burned down a forest trying to light a campfire," Merlin related, remembering the incident with a level of remorse. "The druids learned of my predicament and taught me how to control my breathing and focus on my magic. What they didn't realize, is that I can see magic, not just sense it. I wasn't even aware that I was the only person who could."

Merlin had always been able to see magic, but until he'd learned to properly focus, the gift nature had provided him remained fettered in the shadows of his mind.

Kilgharrah nodded. "You are the only human tied as closely to magic as a dragon or a unicorn. We also have the ability to 'see' magic. It is how we can tell who can use magic, and who cannot," he said.

"And that is why I need peace and quiet," Merlin said. "I am searching for the druids – Iseldir's clan if I can locate them."

Kilgharrah stood. "Then I will leave you to your peace," he said, and took off.

Merlin breathed in deeply and closed his eyes. It helped when he imagined the grassy field where he and Gwen ate their picnic. The trees swaying nearby... the wildflowers... the sun warming the side of his neck...

Beneath his eyelids, his irises flickered.

The muscles on his face remained impassive, except for the corner of his mouth, which twitched upwards.

Most magic theorists described magic as a web. In reality, magic was more of an ocean – where more organized magic just happened to shape itself into a web-like pattern. In the beginning years of becoming Arthur's court sorcerer, the reason Merlin's magic had troubled him so greatly was because more and more of it was being drawn from the raw ocean of magic, rather than the organized web. The barriers his body had instinctively built as a child in order to protect him from such raw power had begun to disintegrate, leaving him with rather unpredictable outcomes when it came to spellcasting. It was the end of the beginning.

When the druids had first discovered his ability to see the magic web, to focus in on the details rather than simply sense the power, they sat him down and told him to start meditating, while they performed various spells. Merlin had been very interested to discover that not only did each spell have it's own pattern, but so did each user. With practice, Merlin found that he could weave the raw magic into the same pattern that the web formed automatically – with a significantly higher power level. Not only that, but he was able to locate any magic user within a hundred miles of himself, just by looking for their signature.

Merlin's breathing deepened.

There were at least three active magic users in Camelot, but he had learned about them from the first week of coming there. He'd been surprised, as well as a little resentful at the fact that he hadn't known about them back when he'd been young and so alone. Merlin passed them over. None of them were in a position to aid him anyways.

The druids were most likely to be in spots that were secluded and had a high-density of magical webbing – like the Valley of the Fallen Kings. If only he could locate Iseldir... He'd nearly located the man before Arthur had walked in on him. Of all the druid leaders, he was the most sensible, Merlin thought.

A trace of his magic racing above the web, Merlin searched for any familiar spells that had been used recently.

Ah... there were some strange patterns. But no, he couldn't tell where they were coming from. Frowning mentally, Merlin swiveled and sped in the opposite direction.

O o O

"I found him, Kilgharrah!" Merlin called excitedly, jolting out of his trance. "How long was I?"

"I do not pay attention to such trivial matters as human time frames," came the reply.

Merlin rolled his eyes. He decided to ignore the dragon's comment and continued, "Finding him was harder than I thought. Someone in their camp knew how to achieve a dampening field."

Dampening fields had been invented to keep powerful sorcerers from sensing each other – either by scrying, meditation, or the innate ability some powerful sorcerers seemed to possess. If Merlin hadn't been Merlin, there was no way he would have been able to find them unless he had accidentally stumbled into their camp.

"When will you contact them?" Kilgharrah asked.

"Either today or tomorrow, depending on how long I've been gone," Merlin replied.

He stood up, rubbing his rear end. Inner peace or not, stones were not a comfortable material to sit on.

Just before he exited the cave, the dragon grumbled, "You were meditating for a little less than three hours."

Merlin paused, turned, thought about saying something sarcastic, then decided against it. _Dragons_... he thought with fond exasperation. Then he hurried through the tunnels. He hoped that nobody had missed him.

O o O

"Merlin!" a maid named Lileth flagged him down.

"Yes?" he asked, pausing in his quickened pace.

"Prince Arthur has been looking everywhere for you!" she exclaimed.

"How long?" he asked, his heart sinking.

Lileth considered then said, "A half hour, maybe more." She gave him a look of pity.

Merlin sighed. "Do you know where his royal highness is at the moment?" he asked.

"Probably down on the archery range. I think he grabbed Edward when he couldn't find you," she said, and this time she was less sympathetic.

Merlin groaned. Great, give Edward another reason to hate him. He knew Edward probably had a mountain of his own chores to do, let alone set up Arthur's targets.

"Thanks," he yelled back, already sprinting down the corridor.

O o O

"Sorry Edward," Merlin panted, skidding to a halt on the grass. "I was finishing an errand for Gaius."

Edward said nothing, but Merlin noticed that the servant's actions of pushing the target into the ground were more forced. Merlin sighed. After he'd been replaced, Edward had been reassigned a high-ranking job as the servant of a council member. But of course, excepting the jobs of either the head of staff or the king's personal manservant, Merlin's job pretty much put the warlock at the top of the pecking order. Edward hadn't yet forgiven the fact that that had been him a month ago.

"Look, I'll make it up to you," Merlin said.

"How?" Edward demanded, giving the target one last push.

"Any chore, any time," Merlin promised. "I swear. Just come and tell me and I'll stop whatever I'm doing to complete it."

Edward looked the warlock in the eye. "Very well. Deal," he said. "I'm going to hold you to your word." Then he stalked away.

"Merlin!"

_Time to face Prince Charming himself_, Merlin thought, and spun towards the direction of Arthur's voice. The prince was taking wide steps in Merlin's direction, carrying an unstrung longbow. Either he was trading weapons or the last string had broken, Merlin decided.

"Merlin, you are so _dead_ right now!"

Merlin sighed, realizing that he would probably have to wait until tomorrow to visit the druids.

"I was doing an errand for Gaius!" he complained, folding his arms. "And that was after I finished scrubbing the floors of both your room and three guest bedrooms, cleaned your armor – which I see you've already managed to ruin – polished half of the castle's silver, and I'm not even going to mention your stinking laundry...!"

"Not today, Merlin," Arthur snapped wearily, now only ten feet away from his obnoxious (and rather lazy) manservant.

To his surprise, Merlin fell silent.

After a moment Merlin opened his mouth. "What's wrong?" he asked quietly.

Arthur ground his teeth. He didn't understand how Merlin could read him so easily. Merlin on the other hand, was a book written in a foreign language. Even though Arthur had spent a better part of the month with the peasant boy, he still couldn't ever figure out what was going through Merlin's head.

"My father," he said testily, relieved that he'd finally found someone he could complain to, "wants me to be part of the negotiations."

Merlin had already known this. In fact, he'd already had this conversation with Arthur before, albeit under a slightly different setting.

"Isn't that a good thing?" he asked, leading Arthur away from the targets, where archers in the distance were becoming impatient to shoot at.

"Yes," Arthur growled. "It means my father trusts me."

"But..." Merlin prompted.

Arthur gave his manservant an annoyed look. "But nothing. Go grab my arrows!"

Merlin sighed; the prince was avoiding Merlin's inquires, just like last time. He lumbered over and grabbed the set of arrows that were made for Arthur's longbow. Next to the prince, other knights were already firing their bows, watching anxiously as they hit the target.

"Are you going to head the archery tournament?" Merlin asked.

Mercia was famous for its superb archers. Arthur had suggested to Uther that it might be diplomatic to hold an archery tournament in King Bayard's honor, which was partly the reason Uther had decided to allow his son join in on the discussions over the peace treaty.

"I'm competing, _Mer_lin. It would be a little difficult for me to head the tournament as well," Arthur mocked, grunting as he bent the bow far enough to loop the string over the second tip. Slowly he released the bow, feeling the string go taut.

In Merlin's time line, the tournament was never held, as the incident with Nimueh and the poison had halted all feeling of goodwill. Merlin hoped he would be able to fix the situation before it occurred this time.

"Sire, about the negotiations," Merlin said, watching Arthur as he drew back the arrow. "I think you'll do fine. You're _almost_ as good at politics as I am," he joked.

Arthur choked as he released the arrow, causing it to veer off course and miss the target by several feet.

Several of the knights looked over to see what was wrong. Arthur hadn't missed a target since he was a young teenager.

"Merlin!" Arthur exclaimed.

Merlin grimaced. He couldn't be sarcastic in front of all of Camelot's knights, no matter how much he wanted to be. "Sire?" he asked instead, trying to sound innocent.

"Please just be quiet for, I don't know, twenty minutes," Arthur said, a false smile on his face. "Can you manage that?"

Merlin shrugged.

"I didn't think so either," Arthur said, grabbing another arrow.

Merlin stepped quietly back. Just as Arthur was about to release the second arrow, he whispered loudly, "If you bring me, I'll whisper the answers in your ear."

That arrow went so off course that it hit a target three rows down, but that was probably because Arthur had turned to strangle Merlin, who had already begun to run, the quiver of arrows abandoned on the ground.


	10. Vital Details like Feathered Hats

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.

A/N: For those of you who took the pole, it looks like Merlin will have had at least some connection with Freya. Whenever she's mentioned, or if she comes in the story at all, I'll do my best to give her an actual character.

* * *

><p>"Wake up, Merlin!"<p>

Merlin groaned and rolled over, blinking into focus Gaius's hunched figure. "S'not time to wake up," he moaned, rubbing his eyes.

"Well, today it _is_," the physician's said emphatically, pulling back Merlin's blankets. "The Mercian envoy is a day early. They'll be here in three hours.

Merlin sat up. "What?" he asked, eyes narrowed. How could he have forgotten such a vital detail? They arrived _early_. Maybe his brain had labeled the poisoning incident as higher priority.

"Exactly," Gaius continued. "Arthur would probably like to be ready _on time_ for a change."

"Yes, I imagine he would, in this case," Merlin sighed, stretching. "All right. I'm up."

"You'd better be," Gaius scolded, then left the small room.

Merlin groaned as the door clicked shut, and fell back onto his bed. So much for confronting Nimueh _before_ she waltzed into Camelot. _Next time_, he thought forcefully, _forget Arthur's stupid chore list and just go_. That was the whole reason he'd been trying to find the druids in the first place. Nimueh had connections with the druids, some of whom had probably seen her do powerful magic. All he needed was a glimpse of her magical signature, then he could find her with no problem. He was fairly certain that she was the person who'd been obnoxiously scrying him over the past month, but unfortunately, scrying spells couldn't be traced, only blocked.

Now... just great. He'd wanted to surprise her, to wipe that smug look off her face. Now he was going to have to be _subtle_. Merlin sighed. No wonder he'd been so miserable as a young man.

Gaius swung open the door.

"Merlin! Get out of that bed!"

O o O

Merlin watched King Bayard march his horse through the castle gates. The king held his head proudly, which was only enforced by the squad of blue-clad knights clopping around him. Although, unlike Uther, who liked to work his public image by waving and nodding to the awe-struck watchers, Bayard stared straight ahead, his solemn gaze never losing its focus.

Merlin knew the parade was a complete set-up. There was no way the Mercians would have been able to hold that much dignity the entire two-week journey. They had probably stopped several miles before reaching Camelot in order to assemble their line.

Arthur used the technique himself for years, until he finally admitted to himself that keeping Merlin and Sir Gwaine in their positions was a near-impossible task.

Merlin reexamined the sea blue cloaks. Nimueh was still missing from the line-up. Although, to be honest, he didn't actually know when she'd joined the group.

"Merlin, stop making faces," Gaius ordered. "What if Uther saw you?"

Merlin slouched further down the ramparts. "I'm just ready to get this over with," he said miserably, remembering all the luggage he'd have to carry in later.

"I'm only hoping that it ends well," Gaius murmured in a quieter tone. "If it doesn't, I fear that we might turn the peace treaty into a full-scale war."

Merlin shook his head. "Mercia is scraping the bottom of the barrel for resources – I think something big would have to happen to incite something _that_ drastic," he said. He pretended to stop and consider. "Though I suppose it _might_ happen if Uther shoved Bayard in the dungeons while accusing him of trying to poison Arthur."

Gaius shook his head at Merlin's imagination. "Let's just hope that nothing forces either Bayard or Uther to loose their temper."

"And there's the catch," Merlin said, resting his chin against his arm. He watched Uther step forward to greet the embassy. It was time for the show to begin.

O o O

Once in the throne room, it took Merlin nearly thirty seconds to spot Nimueh within the squad of blue-clad Mercians. When he did...

Merlin spluttered as he tried to cover his laughter with an insatiable coughing fit. Multiple eyes, from both the blues and reds, twitched in his direction. Arthur was looking at the ceiling with his teeth clenched.

One of the servants next to him cleared his throat and gestured for Merlin to _pipe down_. Uther was about to say something regal and diplomatic, and Merlin (a mere servant) was practically interrupting him.

To show that he was sincere, Merlin pounded his chest and managed to stop the guttural noises, but he couldn't help the enormous smile that spread across his face. _I must look like a maniac_, he decided. Then he figured he could do worse and allowed himself to keep the expression.

He took another glance at Nimueh.

Bad idea. Apparently expecting what he was going to see hadn't helped much at all.

He clapped a hand over his mouth and squeaked as the captured laughter escaped through his nose. The servants next to him shifted in their embarrassment, looking as though they wanted to be in the kitchens – disregard the honor it was to be a part of the receiving assembly.

Not willing to show any manner of irritation in front of his guests, Uther ignored Merlin and continued to stand regally before the Mercian statues. King Bayard's gaze was also unwavering. He was the only person in his party to not even glance in Merlin's direction.

"Camelot welcomes you, Lord Bayard of Mercia," Uther greeted solemnly. "The treaty we sign today, marks an end to war, and the beginning to a new friendship between our people." He regally offered his hand. After only a moment's pause, Bayard reached out and clasped it with his own.

Everyone clapped.

Merlin could feel Nimueh's eyes boring into him. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes, readying himself so he wouldn't feel the need to snicker. She was smirking. It wasn't a Morgana smirk; Nimueh's was more... seductive. But it was still a smirk.

Merlin grinned – he couldn't help himself. Wiping the smirks off the faces of evil witches was a favorite pastime of his.

He gave Nimueh another glance. Gray hairs were wisping out of her turban. She honestly didn't look bad for her age (which was probably around Uther's age, around Merlin's age if he wanted to be honest with himself), but she was still _old_. And there she was, prancing around in a dress made for a woman twenty years younger.

Maybe he wasn't being fair.

After all, to everyone else, she was the epitome of a princess in rags (exotic, figure-enhancing rags). She wasn't to know that Merlin had become so adept at seeing through magical disguises that half the time, he didn't even know they were there.

He bounced on the balls of his feet, eager to get the pomp and ceremony over with so he could contact her. After all, she wasn't called a High Priestess for nothing. Nimueh had some of the most powerful magic Merlin had seen in months; there were few who would have even a chance at defeating her. In fact, Merlin was convinced that if he hadn't surprised her with the lightning bolt all those years ago, she probably would have killed him.

A proper duel with her would be fantastically educational. If he couldn't convince her stop taking revenge against Uther and Arthur, he would definitely do his best to provoke her into one of the most epic battles since him versus Mordred. The thought of the sorcerer sobered Merlin's giddy, slightly immature thoughts. It would be a complete lie if Merlin tried to convince himself that he wasn't scared when it came to that front of destiny.

If Arthur was killed...

Or worse, if Arthur was killed on _his_ watch...

Merlin swallowed and he glanced over at Arthur. How _young _he looked. It hurt sometimes, when Prince Arthur would look at Merlin, and there would be no acknowledgment in his eyes. The early stages of their friendship was not a place Merlin enjoyed, even if he did appreciate being ahead of Arthur in everything for once.

There were times, usually in the dark hours of the night, when Merlin would sit in his bed, plagued with bouts of insomnia, wishing he could just have a couple minutes to talk with his best friend. As soon as Arthur heard of Merlin's self-inflicted plight, he would probably laugh idiotically, then call Merlin out as mentally challenged. Merlin of course, would have a snappy retort ready, one that Arthur wouldn't be able to respond to – in which case he would tell his court sorcerer to shut up. Then Merlin would become serious and Arthur would ask him if something was troubling him. He would listen to Merlin earnestly, usually at a complete loss as to how he could be of any help. Once, Arthur had come to Merlin, sullen and humbled, mournfully complaining that there was never anything he could do to help his friend. Merlin smiled. Arthur didn't get it. Just being there was all Merlin really needed.

If Arthur died... all right, _when_ Arthur died, Merlin knew that he was going to take years to recover from the loss. He expected that he would retreat into the shadows, and the very name of Emrys would vanish into legend until he found need to come out into the open again – if ever.

Someone cleared their throat. It was one of the servants, signaling that the opening ceremony was over.

Merlin jumped, startled, when he realized that he was still staring at Arthur, who was staring straight back with an incredulous expression on his face.

Merlin grinned, hoping that Arthur hadn't seen his watery expression, then then ducked into the crowd of chattering nobles. Time to do the grunt work. That usually helped clear his head, if nothing else. Maybe he could put some lightening spells on a few of the bags.

O o O

Gaius stopped when he saw Merlin lugging a heavy piece of luggage down the hallway. "How are you doing?" he asked, laughing as Merlin groaned in reply.

He threw down the trunk he was carrying.

"This is the last of it," Merlin said, panting. He hadn't caught sight of Nimueh in the hallway yet, probably because he wasn't using the main routes, instead taking back passageways and a lot less stairs. "I keep having to tell myself that this is doing me some good, but somehow... it's not working," he hissed.

Gaius smiled. "It builds character."

"I've got plenty of character," Merlin sniffed, rubbing his sore shoulders. "In fact, I think I have too much."

"Nonsense," Gaius said.

Merlin didn't see Nimueh until she tripped.

"Oof," she said daintily, and the sheets and pillows she'd been carrying went sprawling over the floors.

"Wow, you're just like me!" Merlin exclaimed, bending over to pick up a few pillows. He averted his eyes from the front of her dress, which was much too low for someone her age.

"Really?" she asked with an unsure smile.

"You trip over air, just like I do!" he said with mock-enthusiasm, handing her the pillows. Gaius gave him a strange look from behind Nimueh's back. In a louder voice, Merlin proclaimed, "It's nice to know that I'm not the only clumsy servant alive. I'll have to tell Arthur. Do you mind?"

Nimueh opened her mouth, looking as though she was regretting bumping into him.

"Of course you don't!" he exclaimed, interrupting her awkwardly. "Can I get a name please?"

Nimueh shifted her position.

"Wait!" Merlin declared, holding up a hand. "Let me guess... Nana? Cindy-Lou? Glinda? No," he conceded with fake frustration. "That's not right. Gaius, what are some popular Mercian names? I'm looking for some that might fit a girl – obviously."

"Merlin, what do you think you are doing?" the old man lectured. He knew that Merlin wasn't acting like himself on purpose, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out _why_.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said, giving Nimueh a look. "I give up. What is it?"

"Kara," Nimueh said hesitantly.

"Excellent," Merlin said with a grin. "That doesn't sound like a magic-user's name at all. You must be clean."

"I beg your pardon?" both Gaius and Nimueh simultaneously asked.

With a bout of maniacal laughter, Merlin grabbed the too-light trunk (considering it was full of armor), and sped between the inert pair. He could practically feel their taken aback expressions as they aimed their stares at his back.

O o O

"Are you all right today?" Arthur asked as Merlin entered his room, Arthur's already-clean ceremonial robes draped over the manservant's arm and the Arthur's lunch tray balanced over the other.

"What?" Merlin asked, trying to sound confused.

"Don't give me that, Merlin. I'm not _blind_," Arthur said, arms folded, watching his manservant carefully. "You looked... I don't know, _distressed_ this morning during the greeting ceremony. You were acting really weird."

"An event which was entirely pointless," Merlin added, trying to change topics, "considering the fact that your father already greeted them in the courtyard."

"It's more ceremonial when it's done in the throne room. This is an official visit, _Mer_lin," Arthur said, accustomed to Merlin's complaints against nobles and their time-wasting traditions. "And don't try to change the subject. We're talking about you."

Merlin gave Arthur a look before setting the tray on the table. "I know that I'm an interesting and – let's face it – brilliant person," he said with a wry smile, as he tried to make light of the situation. Arthur snorted. "But I highly doubt you're really _that_ concerned."

There was a moment of silence while Merlin neatly laid out Arthur's outfit across the bed, making sure he hadn't forgotten any of the pieces back in his bedroom.

"Merlin..." Arthur said, his voice sounding hesitant.

"Yes?" Merlin asked stiffly, flaring out one of the shirts.

"Never mind," Arthur said dully, sounding regretful. Merlin closed his eyes, wishing more than anything that he could pour his soul out to the young man who looked and acted so much like his best friend. But it wasn't to be. Not yet. Arthur wasn't ready for that level of trust.

Besides, the prince was terrible at being sympathetic.

"So, Merlin," Arthur began, using a much lighter tone. "Would you like to see what you're going to wear?"

Merlin frowned. Drat. He'd forgotten yet _another_ vital detail.

O o O

"Can I at least burn the feathers?" Merlin asked a minute later, holding up the dreaded hat with a look of distaste.

"If a single thread of that outfit is destroyed or missing, I will see to it personally that it becomes your permanent uniform," Arthur warned, a grin plastered on his face. He was thoroughly enjoying Merlin's discomfort.

Merlin sighed and conceded that at least it wasn't the usual torture (mucking out the stables).

Arthur shrugged. "Well, I'll probably have you do that too," he said matter-of-factly. "Maybe even the whole Mercian entourage."

Merlin glared at the prince.

"Won't it be embarrassing for Camelot if any of its citizens are seen wearing something so ridiculous?" he asked, hanging on to a thread of false hope.

Arthur laughed. "Nice try, Merlin. I doubt anyone important will actually notice you," he said.

"If all goes according to plan," Merlin muttered under his breath.

The prince peeked out from behind his screen. "What was that?" Arthur asked, eyes narrowed.

"I said, 'This costume should be banned'," Merlin said, and meaning it. He ran his fingers over the worn, crimson fabric.

"Not as long as you're around," came the insufferable reply.

Merlin stuck out his tongue.

* * *

><p>AN: This chapter was going to be longer, but its been so long since I've updated that I figured I'd just post what I had.


	11. The Not So Poisoned Chalice

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

A/N: Yeah... I don't have any great excuses. I swear I wrote at least 5 different versions of this chapter, but none of them took me in the direction I wanted. If you were hoping that Merlin would get poisoned - not this time, maybe later though.

* * *

><p>With Gaius and Arthur stuck all afternoon in the stuffy conference hall, Merlin was free to do as he wished (as long as he didn't let Gilroy catch up with him). After sneaking into Bayard's chambers, it took nearly the whole of two hours to cleanse the chalice of any poison. If nothing else, Merlin had to admit that Nimueh was quite thorough when it came to her spellcasting.<p>

"Merlin!" a seductive voice called to him from down the hall.

Merlin mentally cursed. Of all the times for her to show up... With a sigh, he placed an invisibility spell over the chalice he'd been about to return – it was the quickest way he could think to hide it.

"Kara!" he exclaimed, turning around, a fake smile covering his face. His fingers were slightly curled where they were gripping the goblet; hopefully they didn't look like they were in an unnatural position.

"So you remembered my name!" she gushed.

Merlin had to fight the urge to grimace. He tried to look awkward instead. "Well, it's not like we get many people like you visiting," he said honestly, running a hand through the back of his hair.

Nimueh smiled, pleased.

"Is there something I can help you with?" Merlin asked, hoping his anxiousness to get out of her presence was coming out as puppy-like eagerness. Guinevere had told him once that he made an adorable dog – that had been an awkward experience that both he and Arthur agreed never to mention again.

The wrinkles around her eyes deepened as she gave him a hopeless smile. "Well, since you're Arthur's manservant, I suppose you'd know everything there is to know about this castle. Am I right?"

"Don't I wish," Merlin said pleasantly. "But I'll give it my best. What do you need?"

She opened her eyes so that they were very wide and watery before she put forth her request. "I don't know the way to the library."

Merlin involuntarily narrowed his eyes. "Do you need a book?" he asked.

Nimueh let out a giggle that really didn't suit her. "Not for me, silly. It's for my mistress. She likes to read before going to bed."

"I see," Merlin replied blandly. He wondered what she really wanted the library for. More likely than not, it was a ruse to flirt with him. After all, it wasn't like she wasn't already completely familiar with the castle floor plan. If she needed a book all she had to do was take one.

"Down this corridor, turn right, turn left, down the stairs past the blue tapestry, a right, then the second staircase down," Merlin informed. "Not all that hard, really. Good luck."

"Oh," she looked a little flustered – or maybe the red in her cheeks came from annoyance. "I was hoping you could take me."

Drat. She had to ask.

"I'm very, very sorry," Merlin said, trying put on his 'lost puppy' look again. "But I'm already late – if I see you again I'll help you. I'll do whatever you need!" he promised, mentally crossing his fingers.

"If you say so," she said, looking mildly appeased.

"Of course," he said with a slight bow, then hurried off, still clutching the chalice.

He hoped the look on her face when she found out would be worth the deception.

O o O

After Merlin had replaced the chalice, time seemed to roar past him. All the hours that he'd wanted to use for a nap disappeared in an array of last-minute preparations.

"Nice hat," Gwen said, trying not to laugh as Merlin approached her.

"Luckily for me, I look good in anything," Merlin said, trying not to yawn as he flicked a feather away from his eye. "Unlike them. I don't think red matches their complexion," he gestured towards Uther's manservants. Jasper was shifting in embarrassment, trying to avoid any of the mocking glances aimed in his direction. Baldwin, on the other hand, was standing as stiffly as ever – he probably didn't even realize that he looked ridiculous.

"Right," Gwen snorted, raising her eyebrows.

"Hey, I'm not giving Arthur the satisfaction of thinking I'm uncomfortable," Merlin reminded, giving the prat another blatant grin and a salute as the prince glanced in Merlin's direction. Arthur smirked, but the expression was less certain than Merlin remembered.

"I don't care what you think," Gwen said, looking impressed. "I know I'd be embarrassed."

Merlin grinned. "Anything's better than a cone hat," he replied happily.

"What?" a confused look appeared on Gwen's face.

Merlin only smiled in reply. There was a druid clan Merlin rarely visited, mostly because of the required ceremonial garb, which included a tall, cone-shaped hat. Arthur had actually inhaled wine up his nose after Merlin had been forcefully pushed out of the tent. Yes, Merlin tried to avoid that place as often as he could.

"I'd be more worried about what that girl thinks of you, than Arthur," Gwen said in a lower tone, nodding towards Nimueh.

"Huh? Why?" Merlin asked, trying to act oblivious.

"Well she's very pretty," Gwen said cautiously.

Merlin winced inwardly. Nimueh was making Gwen jealous; that was the last reaction he wanted from his friend. He almost scowled in the witch's direction, before remembering that he didn't want to give himself away just yet.

"Er, well, I suppose," Merlin coughed, once he realized Gwen was waiting for a response.

"You don't think so?" Gwen urged, sounding hopeful.

"I don't really think about girls much," he said honestly. His list of responsibilities, combined with his actual age, made this a much easier task, despite the fact that he was back in a body that was frequently bombarded hormones. Plus, even though he really didn't have Freya at the moment, memories of her served just as well for the time being.

Gwen's face had fallen slightly, and Merlin heaved a sigh of relief. The sooner the future queen lost interest in him, the better.

"Well, she keeps looking this way," she said, ducking her head.

"Really?" Merlin asked, not terribly surprised.

"Did you talk to her at all?" Gwen asked.

"I ran into her a couple times," Merlin replied, "but that's about it."

"You must have made quite the impression," Gwen said, a smile on her face, but her underlying tone was resentful.

"When do I _not_ make an impression?" he asked bluntly. "I can't blame her, really."

Gwen let out a reconciliatory giggle, realizing that Merlin really didn't have any interest in the foreign beauty. "Well, for once, someone seems to think highly of you," she said teasingly.

"For once? What kind of friend are you?" he asked in mock-deprecation.

"Quiet," she said, nudging him. "Uther's standing up."

As Uther began, Merlin couldn't help but think to himself, _I can write much more interesting speeches than that_. Though, to be honest, the entertaining portions of Merlin's speeches usually were a result of the fact that King Arthur rarely proof-read his speeches before he used them. It wasn't very difficult to slip in a subtle line that poked at the king – and half the time, Arthur wouldn't even realize what he'd read aloud until two sentences later. A sea of snickering would ensue, and only the old bloodlines of nobility ever bothered to keep their faces straight. Gwaine would always make it a point to laugh the loudest, no matter how dull the joke was. The laughter always made Arthur suspect that Gwaine had put Merlin up to it, not realizing that Gwaine wasn't even aware that Merlin wrote the king's speeches (hardly anyone was). After a time, Arthur finally learned his lesson, and Merlin was let off the hook of speech-writing. Then he was appointed Court Sorcerer and he was forced to write speeches for himself.

People around him, Gwen included, began clapping and Merlin blinked himself out of his tired daze. Ah, good, the treaty was finally official.

Bayard was now going to start his spiel – he was already motioning for his servants to bring over the goblets. Nimueh too, was beginning to make her move.

It was an awkward conversation with Gwen standing there. "Merlin, I need to speak with you," Nimueh said, ignoring an indignant Gwen, while trying to look as pitiful as possible. "And not here."

"What's wrong?" Gwen asked, not letting her jealousy get in the way of helping someone in need (either that or she really didn't want Merlin to go off alone with the flirty maid).

"Nothing," Nimueh said more sharply than she'd probably intended. "I just need to talk with Merlin."

"It's alright, Gwen," he said soothingly. "I'll be back in a moment."

Nimueh was probably smirking inwardly at that.

"What is it?" he asked quietly as Nimueh dragged him across the room. Gwen was looking depressed. She had probably lost all faith in Merlin, just _knowing_ that he had fallen prey to the Mercian serving girl. She didn't blame him really; Kara was admittedly one of the most beautiful women she'd ever laid eyes on. Who would go for her when there was a a girl like that around?

"Not here," Nimueh repeated forcefully, and she pulled him into the servant's passage that led to the kitchen.

It was suspiciously empty for a servant's passage. When Merlin reached out, he realized that Nimueh had put several warding spells up – the subtle kind, so no one would suspect anything. She really was very good when it came to magic. He refocused his eyes and realized that she was going off about something.

"... and now I don't know what to do. Please help me, Merlin! I didn't know who else to turn to," she turned her eyes up at him desperately.

He shook his head, a dumb expression on his face. "Ah, sorry. Didn't catch any of that really," he said, trying to look apologetic.

A flash of annoyance crossed the witch's face.

"I saw Bayard lacing Arthur's goblet with poison," she said bluntly. Then she went back into her distressed serving-girl mode. "But don't tell anyone I told you! Bayard will kill me if he finds out."

"Why on earth would Bayard do something as stupid as that?" Merlin asked, looking skeptical as possible.

Nimueh gave him a confused look. "He craves for the throne of Camelot – he is not the man he pretends to be. He thinks that killing Arthur will be the ruin of Uther."

"It's still a stupid plan," Merlin scoffed. When Nimueh gave him another confused look, Merlin gave an exasperated sigh and explained, "Look, if I were Bayard, I wouldn't do something so obvious right in front of Uther of all people. The Mercians are wholly outnumbered, and even if the armies do come to rescue them, Uther (being, well, Uther) will probably have them all executed on the spot."

Nimueh stared at him.

"See? Stupid plan," Merlin repeated.

"Bayard isn't known for his brains," she said, changing her tact. "The point is, Arthur will die if he drinks from that goblet."

"I think you must be running on too little sleep," he said, looking concerned as he possibly could. "Are you sure you're feeling well?"

He almost laughed at the expression of murder that flashed across her face.

"Arthur told me that Bayard is one of the sharpest sovereigns around," Merlin said, stringing her on. "I doubt he'd do something so bold, even if he did want Camelot's throne."

"But Arthur is going to be poisoned!" she practically shrieked.

Merlin patted her arm, giving her a look of pity. "If he is, I promise I'll get you out of here unharmed," he said kindly.

"You have to listen to me!" she protested.

"After the banquet starts, I'll get Cook to give you some food," he promised, thoroughly enjoying himself.

Nimueh backed away from him. "I'll show you!" she said in a menacing whisper, then stalked back into the banquet hall.

Merlin jaunted after her, smiling to himself.

Arthur swallowed his portion just as Merlin reentered the room. He nearly crashed into Nimueh, who was watching the scene with malicious anticipation.

"I hope you can live with yourself, _Merlin_," she spat.

"Being poisoned is a good, character-building experience," Merlin joked. Then he gestured towards the table. "Besides, he looks fine to me."

Nimueh narrowed her eyes. Even with the delayed effects of the poison, it was true that Arthur, who was cheering with the rest of the room, should have collapsed face-first into the table by then.

"See?" Merlin said. "You're just a little tired. Maybe you just saw him taking the goblets out to clean – heaven knows that's all they're good for."

Nimueh's aged face had turned a pale shade of red. Merlin fancied that she was trying to hold in a scream of outrage.

"Let's go get you something to eat," Merlin said, taking a hold of her arm. "I think I can get away with leaving for a little while."

Nimueh yanked her arm away from him. "How is this possible?" she asked hoarsely, her eyes livid as she aimed them in Arthur's direction.

"Strange, huh?" Merlin agreed. "For once, there was a banquet _without_ an assassination attempt. I'm almost bored."

"Merlin?" she said sweetly. Her tone was dripping in venom.

"Yes, Nimueh?" he answered automatically. They both froze.

"Whoops," he excused himself, not terribly sorry.

Her eyes narrowed. "So... you know who I am," she said blandly. "I'm impressed."

"Don't be. It was nothing really," Merlin answered.

"And you managed to get rid of the poison," she said.

"Obviously," he replied.

"I'm impressed," she repeated.

"I said don't be," he ordered, turning to look at her. "It really was nothing."

Nimueh was wearing a tight-lipped smile.

"So now what?" he asked.

"How did you know who I was?" Nimueh asked.

"Ah, so now we're doing questions and answers," Merlin said with a smile. Then he answered, "Gaius told me about you."

"The old fool," she laughed lightly.

"But he didn't recognize you, so don't bother going after him," Merlin warned.

"If he had known, he would have told Uther," Nimueh reminded coldly.

"True," Merlin said.

They watched the parade of servants come through, carrying the plates of food.

"Oh, would you mind removing the spell off the hallway?" Merlin asked. "It's a pain to have to go around."

"So you noticed," Nimueh said, respect creeping into her voice in spite of herself.

"Of course I did," he snapped. "You've been watching me all month practically – how could you not realize that I'd see something like that?"

After a short moment of silence Merlin sighed, "I suppose I should be used to people underestimating me by now."

"So who are you really, Merlin? Surely you can't be the simple peasant boy who you claim to be," she said, her voice slowly turning back to its flattering tone.

"I am a peasant boy, but I'm most certainly not simple," Merlin replied flatly. "Take the spell off the hall or I'll do it for you."

"Very well, then," she cooed. Her body tensed as she whispered, "_Áscúfa__n__ þý __segl sylfum nytennes_." Merlin could feel the magic rush outfrom her, running along the connecting lines of magic, eager to do her bidding. One of the servants carrying away an empty serving tray stopped abruptly, a confused expression dawning his face. He shook his head and turned towards the correct hallway, instead of the one he'd been about to enter.

"That was easy," Merlin said politely.

"Please. You must know as well as I do that a spell like that would be simple for a high priestess," Nimueh laughed.

"True, but there aren't very many of those left, now are there?" he pointed out. "I commend you for staying alive."

"You're rather powerful yourself. I'm surprised Uther hasn't caught you," she said.

"I lived in Essetir until a couple months ago – there was still a risk, but my mother was very careful," he explained.

"I suppose you must have had contact with others who had magic," she decided.

Merlin blinked. "Not really. Why'd you think that?"

Nimueh gave him a sharp look. "There's no way you could have this much control over your magic without any training."

Merlin winced. He should have just told her that he'd had some contact with the druids. "Well I–" he tried, but he caught someone saying his name.

"_Mer_lin!" Arthur was shouting over the noise, holding out his already-empty glass. He was straining his neck, trying to catch a glance of his good-for-nothing servant.

"Duty calls," Merlin said, giving Nimueh a wry smile.

Before he could move away, Nimueh grabbed his arm. "We haven't finished our conversation," she said in a low voice.

"Later," Merlin warned, looking her in the eyes.

Nimueh released her grip, almost throwing his arm back to his side. "Very well. Tonight, then, in the forest," she agreed.

"What's wrong with an empty room?" he complained.

"Not secluded enough," she said with a wry smile.

"That sounds edgy," he concluded dryly. "All right – I'll be there as soon as I'm finished dragging his highness to bed."

"Merlin!" the shout came again, and this time it was aimed directly at him. Arthur had finally craned his head around his chair enough to catch a glance of Merlin – or more specifically, Merlin's hat.

"What'd she want?" Gwen hissed as he passed her to get a pitcher.

"She wanted to let me know just how handsome I am," Merlin quipped.

The look on Gwen's face was stuck between disbelief and worry.

Merlin grinned. "She needed directions to the kitchen and I'm the only person here she's talked to who she feels comfortable with. I guess she's just shy."

Gwen bit her lip. "I could have helped," she pouted.

"It's sorted, Gwen," he assured her, giving her a pointed look. She blew a strand of hair out of her face, then let a reluctant smile cover her face. He nodded in satisfaction.

"Have fun," she said, straightening her back.

Merlin snorted, "Yeah right." Then he walked away, preparing himself for another night of strange noblemen rituals (like drunken food fights).

O o O

"So," Arthur slurred, tripping over air, "who was that... that _girl_ you were talking too?"

"Which one?" Merlin asked dully, forcing Arthur to hold still so he could get the prince's shirt off. He didn't even bother to hide the fact that he was using magic.

"Ha ha!" Arthur laughed obnoxiously. He snorted at Merlin's ignorance, "'_Which one?_'... ha ha!"

"That's what I just asked," Merlin said, unbuttoning the front of Arthur's shirt.

"Like _you_ talk to many girls," Arthur retorted. He would have fallen over except for the spell holding him up.

"On the contrary, I talk to rather a lot of them," Merlin said. "My best friend _is_ a girl, after all."

"Ah, right. Guinevere..." Arthur trailed off, ending by staring off into the distance.

"How observant you are, tonight, sire," Merlin mocked, tossing the disgusting shirt into a corner.

"Thank you, Merlin," Arthur sniffed, wobbling again.

There was a moment of thoughtful silence (if Arthur was in much of a state to think anything) while Merlin trod over to the wardrobe in order to retrieve one of Arthur's embroidered nightshirts.

"Wait a minute," Arthur laughed stupidly. "I wasn't talking about _Guinevere_. That- that Mercian servant... the pretty one..."

"Kara?" Merlin asked dryly.

"You know her name!" Arthur cried triumphantly.

"Apparently, sire," Merlin said, using Arthur's nightshirt to muffle his snort of laughter.

"Wow, _Mer_lin," Arthur slurred. "I thought you'd be scared of girls..."

"Like I said, my best friend is a girl," Merlin reminded, straightening his expression.

"Guinevere isn't a girl," Arthur said with an chuckle, as if that was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard Merlin say.

"Pray that she never hears you say that," Merlin said flatly, releasing the spell so he could drag Arthur over to the bed.

Arthur giggled as Merlin tugged the blanket's free of the prince's weight. "You're so _weird_, Merlin."

"Good night, Arthur," Merlin said with a grin, throwing the blanket's over his friend's head.

"Yeah," Arthur agreed drowsily.

Merlin blew out all the candles in the room with a single gust of wind. After his eyes faded back to their normal blue, he stood in the dark, contemplating the designated meeting he was about to attend. Hopefully it would end well.


	12. Traitors

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

A/N: I hope this chapter satisfies you a least a tad bit, Jacqs and Seansey, and thank you for the great reviews. And to everyone, sorry for the update time. I hope this chapter doesn't feel rushed. It feels that way to me, but maybe that's just because I'm writing it. Ignore any awkwardly phrased sentences as well; I didn't feel like editing them.

* * *

><p>Merlin had barely made it out of the castle without being caught by Gilroy, who seemed to be herding all lounging servants into the dining hall for final clean up. Grinning at his escape, Merlin took in a deep breath, a cool breeze replacing the city's usual dung-scented air with a forest smell. With no curfew in place, this Camelot almost felt like home.<p>

"Merlin, is that you?"

Merlin froze in mid-step.

"It is you, isn't it?" the unmistakable voice of Gaius snapped. "What are you doing out of bed during this time of night?"

Merlin slowly swiveled around to see the shadowy form of his guardian standing sternly in the doorway of the inn, arms folded, medicine basket hanging from one elbow.

"I might ask you the same question," Merlin retorted, but not wholeheartedly. After a moment's silence he asked in a concerned voice, "Who's sick?"

"One of the merchant's passing through has a son who is plagued by bouts of seizures every few months or so," Gaius answered. Merlin could hear the regret in his voice.

Merlin pressed his lips together in sympathy. "Could you help him at all?" he asked softly.

"I gave him some sedatives, and a potion that should make him more comfortable," Gaius answered. "But I'm afraid there's little I can do for these types of illnesses."

"Anything _I_ could do?" Merlin asked, a significant slant put on his voice.

"Absolutely not!" Gaius snapped.

"Gaius..." Merlin warned sharply.

"We aren't going to discuss this here!" Gaius lectured, gesturing at the fact that they were in the middle of the street, where anyone who happened to be awake could hear them. "Besides," his mentor continued in a kinder tone, "You can't cure a person until you know the cause."

Merlin's shoulders slumped in defeat and he gave a single nod to show that he understood. Magic was able to cure a lot more diseases and afflictions than any normal medicine could. But there were some cases that frustrated both science and magic-users alike. Still, Merlin resolved to stop by later and take a look.

"This is besides the point, Merlin," Gaius reminded stubbornly. "What are you doing here?"

"Walking," Merlin replied.

"I highly doubt that," Gaius scoffed, taking a few steps forward. Merlin could make out more of the old man's features now that his face was out of the shadows. He didn't look impressed.

Merlin frowned, considering. "Well, come with me then," he volunteered slowly.

"What on earth makes you think that I'm going to even let you go?" Gaius asked incredulously. "Come on. You can get into mischief later."

"Sorry, Gaius," Merlin said. "I have to go."

Gaius raised his eyebrows.

"You aren't going to be able to stop me," Merlin said simply.

Gaius snorted but he couldn't deny Merlin's statement.

"If you want to keep an eye on me," Merlin said, "you'll just have to follow me. In fact, I think I'd prefer it if you did come."

Gaius narrowed his eyes.

"Well?" Merlin asked.

Gaius raised his head. After a moment he decided, "Very well, then. But you're carrying this!" He shoved the medicine basket into Merlin's hands.

Merlin took the basket and grinned.

"So just where are you dragging me?" Gaius asked, falling in time with Merlin's steps.

"Later," Merlin said, glancing around at the dark windows surrounding them.

"One of these days, Merlin..." Gaius trailed off, shaking his head.

Merlin smiled softly in the moonlight. "Well at least you're confident that there _is_ going to be another day," he replied.

Gaius frowned. That didn't sound terrible optimistic.

O o O

After twenty minutes of walking through the darkness, with only a sliver of moonlight to guide them, Gaius nearly yelped in surprise at the sudden brightness that popped into existence.

"Merlin!" he scolded, whacking the boy in the arm.

"What?" Merlin asked incredulously. "We're in the woods now! No one's around!"

Gaius glared at the bobbing light Merlin had conjured and retorted, "And how can you be so sure?"

"I did a brief lifeforms search," Merlin replied airily. "The only thing watching us right now is the owl sitting three trees that way."

Gaius squinted, but in the dark, and with his eyesight already poor to begin with, he didn't stand a chance. "A lifeforms search?" he questioned his amused ward.

"It helps to know whether there's anyone watching you when you're doing something illegal," Merlin said cheerfully.

Gaius frowned. "I wouldn't take it so lightly, Merlin," he warned.

"True, someone could randomly barge through those trees and catch us," Merlin agreed.

"Merlin," Gaius snapped, but he smiled, faintly amused.

"I think you should stop worrying so much," his ward continued on, guiding the light further down the path so they could see more than a few feet in front of them. "It would be inconvenient if Uther found out I had magic, but not devastating."

Gaius winced at his ward's stupidity. "You'd be executed before you could say 'I didn't do it!'" the physician snapped. "Don't get so caught up in your magic that you forget how vulnerable you are."

He expected an apology, or at least a guilty look, but no, Merlin laughed. He actually laughed.

"Merlin! You are far too relaxed! This arrogance of yours will get you killed," Gaius said angrily. He couldn't believe how lightly Merlin was taking the subject. Hunith had told Gaius that Merlin was special, and that he needed to be taught control. But she'd never mentioned anything about the boy having absolutely no sense of self-preservation.

Merlin's laughter had ceased almost immediately at Gaius's outburst.

"Gaius," Merlin said seriously.

Gaius did a double-take, almost wondering if his ward had taken place with someone else.

"You really don't need to worry about me," Merlin continued, his voice stern, but kind. "I'm far more powerful than I've let you believe."

Gaius frowned.

"If Uther ever found out, I'm afraid there's nothing he could do to stop me," Merlin said, looking distant.

The old physician could hear the sincerity in Merlin's voice. He truly wanted Gaius to understand whatever point it was he was trying to make. Gaius knew Merlin was powerful. He'd never seen anyone so adept at silent spells or quick on the uptake when it came to learning new magic. But still...

Hesitantly, Gaius said, "You know, Merlin. Uther owns a pair of cuffs that block out magic. If he got you into those, you wouldn't stand a chance." Merlin remained silent. Gaius added, just in case Merlin didn't believe him, "You haven't seem them used yet because-"

"Because they have magical ruins carved in them, I know. Uther doesn't like using them because a sorcerer made them," Merlin interrupted, then added under his breath, "The hypocrite." He glanced up at his mentor, who was staring at him. "I've been through nearly all the stuff in the vault," he explained.

"You..." Gaius trailed off, then decided that he shouldn't be surprised.

"No need to worry about those handcuffs either," Merlin said cheerfully. Gaius raised his eyebrow skeptically, wondering if the boy had gone and stolen them – the idiot. But he was surprised by Merlin's follow-up reply.

"They don't work on me," he announced.

"Is that so?" Gaius asked sceptically, on the verge of smacking the boy over the head. In fact, he probably should. Anyone who believed they were powerful enough to overcome magic-bindings that were capable of disarming even a being as magical as the Great Dragon deserved a good whack over the head.

"It would be like trying to hold back an ocean with a beaver's dam," Merlin said simply.

Gaius whacked his ward alongside the head.

"Ow!" Merlin exclaimed. He used his free hand that wasn't carrying the medicine case to rub the sore spot. "What was that for?"

"You, Merlin my boy, are going to get killed for all your arrogance!" Gaius lectured, his brow creasing in frustration.

"You don't believe me, then?" Merlin asked, somewhat annoyed. He suppose he really couldn't blame Gaius. After all, similar binding spells were used on the chains imprisoning Kilgharrah. No one in their right mind would ever believe a skinny kid like him could escape such traps.

"Of course I don't!" Gaius huffed. "I don't even see how you can believe yourself."

Merlin grinned in the faint light.

"As soon as we get back from this ridiculous errand, I'm going to have to teach you a thing or two about magical theory," Gaius continued. "And I think I'll have to confiscate your magic book for a while."

"Gaius!" Merlin whined. He was rather fond of that book.

"You need to learn some self-restraint before you learn any more magic," Gaius said firmly, satisfied that he was finally getting a reaction out of the boy.

Merlin grumbled something unintelligible.

The two walked in silence for the the next ten minutes: Merlin brooding over Gaius's stubbornly cautious nature, and Gaius hoping that taking away Merlin's source of magical education would be enough to tone down the boy's impulsive nature. This only slightly distracted them from the edginess of the situation. Merlin could feel them approaching Nimueh's magical signature, and he was determined to ensure that his decision to bring Gaius along was a safe one. If anything happened to the old man because of him... he shuddered and went back to concentrating on the surrounding magic.

Gaius could feel his own nervousness increase with every creak of the trees, every screech of an owl, and every time some night critter scampered along the forest floor. Merlin was a bright boy, but the physician knew the warlock had a tendency to rush into situations without thinking. More likely than not, this situation would end with them being captured by bandits, robbed, then sold into slavery. At least, _Merlin_ would probably be sold into slavery. Gaius was too old to be of any use for hard labor. Perhaps his skills as a physician would be needed?

Gaius shook his head when he realized the direction his thoughts were headed. That was why he had come with Merlin after all, to prevent such a thing from happening. Merlin, despite himself, was rather talented with magic. If Gaius was there to mentor him in any sort of attack, perhaps they might make it back to the castle alive.

Merlin heard his mentor let out a small gasp when he put the wizard's light out.

"Sorry," he whispered to his mentor.

"What did you do that for?" Gaius asked, whispering as well, wondering if Merlin had seen something. Now that the light was gone, he couldn't see more than a few blurry feet in front of him – if that.

"We're getting close," Merlin answered. "I'd rather she didn't know we were coming." More likely than not, Nimueh was already aware of their approach, but Merlin didn't want to give up a slight advantage that they might have.

"You're meeting someone then," Gaius said bluntly.

"Yes," Merlin answered.

"Who?"

"Someone who will either convince me to join her in her plans to destroy Uther, or kill me," Merlin answered.

Gaius frowned.

"Don't give me that look!" Merlin grunted. That only made Gaius scowl even more. Apparently the boy could actually _see_ in this despicable darkness. "I'm not going to let her do either."

"Well that all depends on who we're meeting," Gaius pointed out, annoyed. "Is she a sorceress?"

"Witch," Merlin corrected him.

Gaius raised his eyebrows. He hadn't been aware that Merlin knew the difference between the various titles of magic users.

"She's a high priestess of the Old Religion," Merlin elaborated when he didn't get a response.

"Merlin!" Gaius scolded. "You mean to tell me we're meeting a person who could very well kill us, no matter what we do?"

Merlin frowned. "Of course not," he scoffed. "I wouldn't have brought you if I wasn't sure we were going to get out of this!"

"Somehow that does not reassure me," Gaius hissed.

After a few moments of standing in silence, Gaius suggested firmly, "We should go back. Right now."

"Absolutely not," Merlin said. "I need to talk with her before she poisons the entire city!"

"Poison? Merlin, what are you going on about?" Gaius demanded softly.

"She seems to have an affinity for the stuff," Merlin said, not elaborating.

"And you know her?" Gaius asked.

"We've met several times," Merlin answered, being purposefully vague.

"You realize that she's toying with you," Gaius said slowly.

"She _thinks _she's toying with me," Merlin corrected. "There's a difference."

"_She_ is a high priestess, Merlin!" Gaius argued. "No matter how powerful you are, you're no match for someone who's been studying magic her entire life."

"We aren't continuing this conversation," Merlin said firmly. "You can go back, but I have to see this through."

Gaius sighed, hearing the stubbornness that underlied Merlin's tone.

"I can't. Wouldn't be able to see a thing, anyways," Gaius admitted.

Merlin smiled, knowing this was Gaius's way of sticking with him. "Thank you," he whispered. "Should I turn the light back on, then?"

"If she's a high priestess, it's very likely she already knows we're around," Gaius answered, resigned to his fate.

Merlin nodded. "I was afraid so," he sighed.

The glowing orb popped back into existence.

"Onward, then!" Merlin gestured after Gaius's eyes had adjusted to the light.

"Wipe that smile off your face," Gaius snapped, grumbling something about idiotic warlocks who didn't know their place.

Merlin continued to smile, but his thoughts turned to more serious matters – such as quick defense spells. It was during times like these when he wished he had his Sidhe staff. The thing was very capable of storing complicated spells that usually took long hours of preparation or long lines of incantation. Back home, Merlin had a whole catalog of spells saved up on the staff, ready for immediate and repeated use. Instincts were good and all, but they were too unpredictable and far less accurate than if Merlin actually thought the spell through logically. Oh well, even the basic spells were bound to be adequate in a situation like this. After all, he was only defending himself and Gaius, not all of Camelot.

"So you're finally here."

Merlin set down the medicine basket and stepped into the clearing, which Nimueh had already lit with a circle of blue bonfires. The effect made her look eerily like the the Cailleach, guardian of the veil. Merlin blinked the thought away and answered pleasantly, "Arthur was drunk."

"I see," she replied, sounding amused. "You brought someone with you. Who is it?"

"Someone who might help with several of the explanations I've been wanting," Merlin answered. "You are not to hurt him."

Nimueh smirked. "We shall see."

Merlin frowned, but gestured for Gaius to come out of the trees.

Recognition filled Nimueh's expression. "You!" she hissed. Merlin could feel her magic connecting with the web, prepared to attack.

"Stop, Nimueh!" Merlin ordered. Gaius's eyes widened at the name.

Nimueh didn't seemed to hear Merlin as she slowly raised her hand, poised to release the striking spell.

Merlin conjured a fireball and yelled, "Don't make me force you!"

Nimueh blinked in surprise, but her features quickly slipped into amusement as her focus turned to amusement. "So you think you could defeat me?" she laughed. "You, a magician-in-training, taught by an old codger who has ceased his practice of magic?"

Merlin scowled. A magician was the word magic-users employed to label the fakes, the people who used sleight-of-hand and smoke screens, with no real magic in them at all. Merlin's fireball increased in size.

"You said you wanted to talk with me," Merlin reminded loudly.

Nimueh narrowed her eyes. "Not with the traitor here," she said clearly.

Merlin's fireball dissipated. "Very well, then," he agreed. Gaius moved forward to stop him, but Merlin place a hand on the physician's shoulder, stilling him. "After he answers some of my questions."

Nimueh frowned and Gaius raised his eyebrows.

"I want to know the reason why Uther hates magic," Merlin continued, "and why you think Gaius is a traitor."

Gaius's shoulders slumped.

Nimueh snorted. "His standing as a traitor should be obvious. He supports a murderer."

Merlin raised his eyebrows. "You should talk. Arthur would be dead if I hadn't intervened," he pointed out. "I think that constitutes as murder, don't you think?"

Nimueh growled, "The young Pendragon has done nothing to deserve my sympathies. He is no better than his father."

Merlin narrowed his eyes. "Arthur Pendragon is a good man," he snapped. "There is no reason why you should be the one to decide otherwise."

"He led raids against innocent druid camps!" Nimueh snapped back. "Women and children were killed!"

"And he still has nightmares about it!" Merlin retorted crossly.

Nimueh let out an emotionless laugh. "A Pendragon having nightmares about killing off magic-users? That I cannot believe," she said, nose in the air.

Merlin scowled. "Arthur has been taught to hate magic his entire life, but he still feels compassion towards his father's victims. Is that not worthy of some note?" he asked.

"He does nothing to stop the crimes," Nimueh hissed. "As long as his father is alive, Arthur Pendragon will be a menace."

Merlin cocked his head. "What if I can change him?" he asked, stepping forward, eyes wide.

"Change him?" Nimueh asked.

Merlin nodded. "What if I can make him come to terms with magic – not hate it, or the people who use it?" he asked.

Nimueh frowned, considering the possibility. Then her features hardened. "It matters not," she decided. "Uther will continue to execute people, whether or not his precious Arthur agrees."

Merlin took another step forward. "What if I can make sure that no one else dies because of Uther's magic law?" he asked.

Gaius winced. He hoped Merlin wasn't about to make a promise that was bound to get him killed.

Nimueh was frowning. "How would you accomplish this?" she asked.

Merlin straightened his back. "It would be easy enough to get the prisoners out of the dungeon. I can have people take them and their families somewhere safe – I know of a few places. The tricky part will be making Uther think that the people are actually executed."

Nimueh pursed her lips. "You have a plan, I suppose?" she asked, somewhat primly.

Merlin gave her a sideways smile. "Of course I do. Needs work, but it will come together eventually."

"And how soon will this plan take before it can take affect?" Nimueh inquired, mildly curious.

"One to two weeks, tops," Merlin promised.

"And what about Uther?" Nimueh demanded. "The murderer deserves to suffer."

Merlin sighed – back on the revenge thing again.

"Arthur isn't ready to be king," he said sternly. "Nor would it be a good idea to further his hatred of magic by having it kill another of his parents."

There was a moment of silence before Merlin's words fully sank into their heads.

"Merlin," Gaius breathed slowly, "what do you know of Ygraine's death?"

Merlin looked at the sky. Now how was he supposed to explain away this one? Perhaps it would be easier to simply tell the truth (most of it, anyways). He took a deep breath. "I know most of the story," he admitted. "I know that Nimueh used her command over life and death in order to give Uther a son. When Ygraine died in Arthur's place, Uther went berserk and gave the laws to outlaw magic."

Gaius stiffened. "Where did you hear about this?" he whispered hoarsely.

"Here and there," Merlin shrugged off. "Some records in the sealed vaults of the library."

Gaius frowned. "How did you ever get in there?" the physician asked incredulously.

Merlin wiggled his fingers in answer.

"Ah," was all Gaius could reply. The physician's frown deepened. Something wasn't adding up – there was no way Merlin would have read _that_ story in a bunch of dusty records. As far as Gaius knew, Uther had destroyed all information related to the existence of Nimueh, and had ensured that nothing would ever be written about her involvement. Very few people had known about it in the first place, and even fewer were still alive. Still, Gaius thought, glancing at his ward, he wasn't about to interrogate the boy while that woman was around.

"Are you aware, then, of how much I despise Uther?" Nimueh asked.

"Did you warn him of the consequences?" Merlin asked intently.

"Of course I did!" Nimueh snapped. "He brushed my warnings aside like he would a fly. Even Gaius, for all his faults, attempted to stop the king's madness!"

"Then why didn't you just not do it?" Merlin asked.

Merlin was actually surprised to find Gaius stepping forward in Nimueh's defense. "Uther was the _king_, Merlin. If she had denied this request, Uther probably would have had her banished."

Merlin balked. "You're justifying her actions?" he asked, disbelievingly. "A person _died_, Gaius!"

"_My_ actions?" Nimueh shrieked, her magic sizzling.

"Uther did not have the magic to do it without you," Merlin said, his voice stone-cold.

"If not me, it would have been another," Nimueh snapped.

Merlin took in a deep breath, and forced himself to calm. There was no real use in arguing over things of the past. After all, so much would be different – neither he nor Arthur would be alive – if roles had played out differently.

"I apologize," he said sincerely. "It is not my place to question your actions, not without being there."

Nimueh only looked slightly mollified by his apology.

"I do want to know why Ygraine had to be the death," Merlin said, pursing his lips. "Don't you have some control over the subjects?"

Nimueh scowled. "I let the fates take over. That way, the death would be on Uther's head. But if I had known it was Ygraine who was to take the blow..." she trailed off, and for a glimmer of an instant, Merlin swore he could hear a strain of remorse creep out.

"So you didn't realize that Ygraine was going to be the one whose life was taken," Merlin repeated, wanting to make sure he had this fact down correctly.

Nimueh nodded. Merlin turned to Gaius, who nodded as well. He remembered Nimueh informing him that she was going to let destiny decide who was going to die. She hadn't wanted take responsibility for Uther's mess.

While the fact that Nimueh hadn't known who was going to die didn't really change the fact that she had knowingly killed someone for the king, Merlin couldn't help but feel somewhat relieved. If she had purposefully taken the queen's life in order to spite Uther for ignoring her warnings, Merlin would have felt no hope in getting her to cooperate with him. Nor would he want her too, if that were the case. He didn't work with murderers. (He ignored the voice in the back of his head reminding him that she had almost killed multiple loved ones.)

"So... I know Uther would have been upset, but taking it out on a whole group of people? Really?" Merlin inquired, hoping for more information.

"He is a pompous idiot," Nimueh answered, as if that were the only explanation required.

Merlin snorted.

"Uther has never been fond of magic," Gaius finally answered. "He simply had an uneasy alliance with its users since some of them helped win Camelot for him."

Merlin nodded slowly. Before Uther, the house of Pendragon had been stuck with the title of duke. Their fortunes changed when the previous king had been assassinated, killed along with the rest of his family (probably explaining Uther's paranoia). Camelot had been thrown into a decade of anarchical chaos, with multiple families challenging one another for the thrown. Once a teenage Uther had joined the throes, having gathered a suitable force of loyal followers, he'd been able to take the crown. A reign of peace had followed. Merlin couldn't help but respect the man.

"His brother had been killed by a magic user, who had, through very gruesome circumstances, his life force ripped from him in order to perform some archaic spell," Gaius said regretfully.

"Basically," Nimueh finished, "Uther is scared."

"You would be too, in his position," Gaius snapped.

Nimueh snarled, "Traitor."

"Which brings me to my next line of questioning," Merlin said. "Why would you say Gaius is a traitor?"

"He turned his back on his own kin to support Uther," Nimueh hissed, glaring at the physician. "He renounced magic, just so he could remain as the king's sniveling follower."

Gaius gave his ward a sharp glance to see if the boy was surprised by the admonition that his mentor had magic too. But Merlin didn't react, instead staring carefully into Nimueh's eyes.

"What did _you_ do when Uther gave the order?" Merlin asked.

"I fled, of course!" she said, glaring. "I was the first one ordered dead."

"And you're blaming _Gaius_ for not doing anything?" Merlin scoffed.

Gaius winced. "Well, she did come back a month later – secretly," he admitted to his ward. "She hadn't realized that Uther had outlawed all magic. She had thought it was only her that the king was after."

Realization dawned on Merlin. "So by the time she got back..."

"Everyone I cared about was gone," Nimueh said, teeth clenched.

Gaius sighed. "And because I didn't do anything to prevent the massacre, I'm afraid she blames me," he said sadly.

"Do you deserve to be blamed?" Merlin asked softly.

"Of course he does!" Nimueh fumed.

Merlin held up his hand, glaring at the witch. "I wasn't asking you," he warned.

"I'm not proud of the way I acted," Gaius admitted, steeling himself for the wave of disappointment from Merlin that was bound to follow. "I was a coward, feeling there was very little I could do to stop the tragedy. I imagine there was also a part of me hoping that Uther would come to his senses."

Nimueh laughed softly at that comment.

"When did you realize that his hatred against magic was permanent?" Merlin asked.

Gaius looked up into Merlin's blue eyes. "Far too late, I'm afraid," he said.

"Did you try to help anyone at all?" Merlin asked, hoping he wasn't sounding desperate. He knew Balinor had been rescued by Gaius, but it sounded like he had been a close friend. All of those other people though...

Gaius looked hurt by Merlin's near-accusation. "I wasn't completely heartless, Merlin!" he said, eyebrows furrowing. "There were a few people I managed to have smuggled into safety." He looked at Merlin significantly, wishing he could tell the boy about Balinor, despite his mother's strict instructions not to. He blinked away the longing thought and continued, "I also managed to warn a majority of the druid camps before the army got to them."

"Not that it helped," Nimueh sneered. "Uther caught up to most of them eventually."

Gaius slumped.

Merlin's heart reached out to his foster-father. Perhaps he shouldn't have brought up the subject. He knew Gaius was a very passive man, probably due to his profession. It couldn't have been an easy situation for him: His good friend grief-stricken by the death of his wife, and all of Camelot paying for it. Merlin knew Gaius had probably suffered tremendously throughout the whole ordeal, and here Merlin was, interrogating him about it, even though he owed Gaius so much.

Feeling slightly guilty, Merlin placed a hand on the old man's shoulder.

Nimueh snorted. "I knew you would side with him. After all, you are just like him, waiting hand-and-foot on a Pendragon."

Merlin raised his eyebrows. "Arthur is my best friend," he said. Gaius raised his own eyebrows at the admonition. He wasn't aware that Merlin saw Arthur as anything other than an annoying prat – even if he was a good man.

"I won't see him harmed for the deeds of his father," Merlin continued.

"You are his servant, Merlin," Nimueh said with a smirk. "I doubt Arthur sees you in the same light. If he knew you had magic, he would turn you over without a second's thought."

Merlin frowned. "It's a work in progress," he reminded. "I haven't finished with him yet."

Nimueh straightened, looking decided. "It's no matter," she said smoothly. "I will not allow you to leave, in any case."

Gaius groaned, realizing that it had been bound to happen.

"Going to kill us then, eh?" Merlin didn't seem terribly upset by this.

"You have made it clear that you will protect Arthur with your life," she said. "If it was simply a matter of persuasion... but I can see you have made up your mind."

"I know, my talent's wasted," Merlin said with a grin, watching as the web of magic drew to Nimueh's waiting person.

"Indeed," she agreed, before thrusting out her hand. "_Astrice_!"

Merlin held up his own hand. He found that the physical action helped concentrate mentally. Gaius watched with wide eyes as Merlin's eyes glowed gold without the aid of an incantation. Nothing happened.

Nimueh frowned. "What did you do?" she asked, hesitating slightly.

"I unraveled your spell," Merlin answered politely.

Nimueh's frown deepened. "You what?"

"I suppose I should warn you now that my powers far exceed yours," Merlin said nonchalantly. "If you fight me, you aren't going to win."

Gaius was frowning now as well. Merlin had done _what_ to Nimueh's spell? He wasn't aware that such a technique existed – although he realized with a grimace that Merlin could very well be bluffing. Perhaps Nimueh's aim had been off.

Nimueh was looking annoyed. "A little brat like you has no business threatening me!" she shrieked and threw a fireball at him. Merlin grinned. She was showing off now, using magic without incantations. Only very advanced magic-users could do that and still maintain control.

Merlin caught the ball of flames, threw it up in the air, then caught it again. "You'll have to do better than that!" he challenged with a grin, then hurled the flames back at her.

"_B__ordwudu_!" she cried, and the flames slammed against her magical shield, dissipating.

"Very nice!" Merlin complimented. "Now how are you with _lightning_?" At his shout, the small bolts that had been crackling under his skin were released. If Nimueh hadn't had her shield up, she would have been killed instantly. As it was, her shield was destroyed and she was thrown backwards.

Merlin strode forward, playing with the thin strands of lightning dancing on his fingers. "You underestimated me," he said, now serious. If worst came to worst, Merlin was beginning to realize that he was going to have to kill her.

Nimueh moaned, pushing herself into a sitting position. She reflexively flinched when she caught sight of Merlin marching in her direction. With a growl, she quickly gathered herself off the ground, completely guarded. Her wariness only increased when she saw the little flashes of light that danced across Merlin's hands.

"You must have a lightning affinity," she noted dryly.

He nodded once. "I also have an affinity for everything else," he said. "Fire, for example." He lifted one of his hands, eyes flashing gold. The blue bonfire to the left rose from the ground. Nimueh's eye widened.

He noted her fear. "Water," he continued, and lifted his other hand. On his command, the dew peeled itself from the grass around them and floated through the air, all converging into a ring of water around his person.

Merlin took a step closer to Nimueh. "Air," he said. The ring of water began to spin and Merlin quickly became the center of a small whirlwind.

Nimueh backed away as her hair began to whip around her.

"This is no game, Nimueh," he said loudly, over the wind. "I am fully capable, and fully prepared to protect the people I love. Are we clear?"

Nimueh bared her teeth.

With her negative reaction, the whirlwind grew bigger and the bonfires lighting the clearing exploded in size.

"Nimueh!" Merlin warned, eyes nearly a constantly, solid gold now.

"I am not done with you yet, Merlin!" she shouted.

Merlin cursed as he realized what she was about to do, but the stupid wind stopped him from concentrating. She shouted a few syllables in the old tongue then vanished, probably reappearing on her beloved isle. Merlin groaned when he realized that he'd been so caught up in trying to scare her that he'd forgot to check the spells she'd been preparing to use.

With a dissatisfied frown, Merlin slowed the wind, let the water splash to the ground, and forced the blue bonfires to die. Darkness reigned.

"Merlin?"

Merlin turned at the sound of Gaius's uncertain voice.

"I'm sorry, Gaius," the warlock said unhappily, feeling like he was apologizing for multiple things at once.

Gaius was silent for a moment.

"Merlin," the old physician said slowly, "you realize that you're an impossibility, don't you?"

Merlin let out a small, bittersweet laugh. "I've heard it once or twice," he said.

"People are only supposed to be able to have an affinity for one element. To have an affinity for two is supposed to be an amazing stroke. But you..." Gaius trailed off, shaking his head.

"And I, after all that, let her escape," he finished, resigned.

Gaius sighed. "I did tell you that she was a powerful magic user, didn't I?" he asked, somewhat teasingly.

"I could've had her if I hadn't been showing off," Merlin said, scowling up at the moon.

"Perhaps," Gaius agreed. "But there's no use wallowing over it now. I think we should be grateful we're alive."

Merlin raised his eyebrows and turned to face Gaius's outline. "You know very well she couldn't have done anything to me," he said.

"Arrogance doesn't become you, Merlin," Gaius scolded. Merlin stiffened in surprise.

Then his form slumped, his magic feeling properly reprimanded. That was usually Gwen's job, back home. She hated it when he was too confident. She felt he let his guard down with an attitude like that. What do you know? She was right.

Merlin gave his mentor a weak smile.

"Thanks for coming with me, Gaius," he said softly.

Gaius approached the lad. After a brief moment of hesitation he let a hand rest on the boy's shoulder. "You're perfectly welcome, my boy," he said, suddenly feeling very old indeed. Then he said regretfully, "And I hope that in time, you'll be able to look past an old man's failings."

Merlin turned to Gaius sharply. "Gaius, I'm not here to judge you for what you did in the past. We're here now, and that's all that matters."

Gaius was about to disagree, when he found himself enveloped in Merlin's arms.

"Gaius," Merlin said softly after a minute, releasing the old man from his impulsive hug. "You're like a father to me. If you dare, for one minute, ever envisage that you're the traitor Nimueh thinks you are, just take a look at me, and realize who exactly you're hiding from Uther."

Gaius had to chuckle at that.


	13. Headaches and Friends who aren't new

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.**

* * *

><p>The journey back to the castle was one long trudge. At least it wasn't raining.<p>

"You didn't read about Arthur's birth in the library," Gaius said suddenly, his voice tired.

Merlin took a sideways glance at the old physician. He should have guessed that Gaius would call him out on the lie.

"No," the warlock agreed. "I didn't."

Gaius waited for further elaboration, but none came. He sighed. Apparently Merlin was more secretive than he'd believed him to be. For some reason, this made his heart rise to his throat.

"How, then?" he asked, wondering if he'd get a proper answer.

"The dragon," Merlin lied simply. The warlock was, in all honesty, very grateful that he hadn't heard the tale from Kilgharrah. The dragon probably would have been breathing flames and curses at Uther, and Merlin never would have gotten the story straight. "He was a little prejudiced – well, more than a little – but I got the gist of it," Merlin elaborated.

Gaius had to remind himself to keep walking.

"The dragon?" he croaked, shuffling at a quicker pace to catch up.

Merlin snorted. "Yes, the dragon. Blasted lizard has been railing about my destiny since the day I got here," he whined. Then he softened. "But he has helped me in several tight spots, I'll give him that."

Merlin looked over at his mentor. The physician seemed older than he'd ever been, as if the weight of a mountain had been added onto his shoulders. Merlin shifted his eyes away guiltily. That was partly his fault after all.

"Sorry for not telling you," Merlin said. "I didn't want you to worry more than I already do."

Gaius snorted. "If this is your idea of 'not worrying me,' then I think I have to inform you that I nearly had a heart attack tonight!"

"I _told_ you I could take care of myself," Merlin complained. "You just never believed me."

Gaius patted Merlin's shoulder. "With your recklessness, I'm _still_ fairly sure that you can't take care of yourself."

Merlin raised his eyebrows. "But...?" he inquired, hearing the defeat of one who has lost an argument with their growing child.

Gaius removed his hand from Merlin's shoulder. "But I must admit that you are far more advanced in magic than I thought you to be," he said slowly.

Merlin grinned. "You better believe it."

"Where did you learn all of that, Merlin?" Gaius asked. "Were you lying when you told me you had never seen the druids?"

Merlin ignored the druid question. "I learned most of it on my own," he said honestly. "My magic doesn't work like most people's. Books help, that's all."

"Do they?" Gaius asked flatly.

"Yes, they do," Merlin said honestly. "Just because I'm all-powerful doesn't mean I'm all knowledgeable."

Gaius snorted. "My boy, you couldn't be more right."

Merlin was too tired to be offended.

O o O

"Good moooorning, Arthur!" Merlin sang at the top of his lungs, pushing the door open with his tray.

Instead of the usual, "_Mer_lin!" the warlock only got a groan in reply.

Merlin smirked.

He set the breakfast tray on the table and walked over to the bed. The lump that was Arthur appeared to be curled under the sheets, trying his best to shield himself from the light.

"You're lucky the Mercians got as drunk as you did last night, otherwise you'd have been up _hours_ ago," Merlin chattered as he flung open the canopy so the afternoon sun could reach the hungover prince. "Actually, I think the only nobles who are awake are your father and sis- er, Morgana. Although, I'm not complaining either. I got to sleep in past dawn for the first time in _ages_. I swear, Arthur, I never get a moment's..."

A candlestick flung at his head silenced his monologue.

"Shut. Up," Arthur's chilly voice came from under the blankets, dripping with icicles.

Merlin cocked his head in amusement. "Gaius sent up a hangover remedy. Looks disgusting, by the way..."

"Hand it over," Arthur snapped, sticking a hand out from under the blankets.

"Only if you get up," Merlin said, grinning wickedly.

Arthur's head popped out, his mouth formed into a scowl. "Merlin..." he warned.

Merlin picked up the little glass bottle and shook its contents. "I could toss it out the window," he said, grinning and miming a small toss toward the opening.

Arthur seemed to loose all sense after that. Merlin was just glad he made it out alive.

O o O

"What are you doing?" Gaius asked curiously, poking his head into Merlin's room. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "You aren't napping are you?"

Merlin opened one eye.

"I wish," he said honestly.

Gaius didn't blame him. Even if he had got to sleep in later than usual, Merlin probably hadn't gotten more than three hours of sleep. As soon as they'd gotten back to Camelot, the boy had gone to see the dragon about something. When Gaius had demanded to know what for, Merlin had answered with an insufferable, "I'll tell you later."

"I'm meditating," he finally admitted. "Or at least – trying too. Not easy when I've got about a million things on my to-do list."

"Meditation?" Gaius raised an eyebrow. "Where did you learn that?"

"Er... mother," Merlin said, shifting uncomfortably in his sitting position against the wall. "She thought it might help me control my magic."

Gaius nodded slightly at that. Hunith wasn't completely ignorant when it came to such things. "Has your magic been acting up?" he asked, concerned.

"Not since the last thunderstorm," Merlin allowed with a small smile.

Gaius nodded, then he froze, and his eyes widened as comprehension dawned.

"I'm actually working to set up a teleportation spell for myself," Merlin continued, not allowing the physician to voice his incredulous realizations. "I can't be around Arthur all the time, but if he's ever in any mortal danger, I want to be able to reach him quickly."

Gaius frowned. "Now, how exactly do you expect to manage that? Teleportation necklaces are very rare – only very advanced magic users can make them," Gaius said skeptically.

Merlin grinned. "I figured out how to do it without a physical anchor a long time ago," he said. "I simply tie it down to my magical signature instead. Takes about thirty minutes."

Gaius spluttered. Thirty _minutes_? That sort of spell usually took thirty _days_ to complete. He told Merlin so.

Merlin grinned smugly. "Most people don't have direct access to the magic; they have to manipulate it with a mixture of land magic and and their own – very tedious, if you ask me. The hard part's going to be setting it up to alert me when the prat's in danger."

The physician gave Merlin an incredulous look.

"I can see magic," Merlin told him point blank.

"Like the dragons?" Gaius asked, trying to process this new information.

"More or less," Merlin agreed. "I've got a theory as to why I'm so powerful, but I'd like to do more research before I run it by Kilgharrah. That dragon loves to laugh at me."

"The dragon told you his name," Gaius noted blandly, deciding to not let anything take him by surprise anymore.

"Yup," he decided to lie. His knowledge of Balinor was a bit too hard to explain away. That reminded Merlin that he'd better pay his father a visit soon.

Gaius stared at Merlin, then supposed that it made sense. This remarkable boy was the son of a dragonlord after all, whether he knew it or not. He wondered if the dragon would tell him. But after a moment considering Kilgharrah's prideful nature, he thought not. The dragon probably somewhat resented the fact that there were mere humans who could control his every action. He probably would keep the knowledge from Merlin until it was absolutely necessary.

"Please don't tell Mother," Merlin asked him calmly. "I know you've been using merchants to send letters back and forth."

Gaius frowned. "And just why shouldn't I?" he asked, crossing his arms.

Merlin sighed. "Well, at least leave out the part where I battle evil on a daily basis," he conceded.

Gaius pursed his lips. "I don't like deceiving her, Merlin. She's you mother," he said. "She'd probably like to know that you've got at least a decent handle on your magic."

Merlin threw his hands in the air. "Fine! I'll tell her when I visit!"

"You're visiting her?" Gaius asked.

Merlin shrugged. "If Arthur ever gives me enough time off," he said. "I'm setting up another tunnel that I can move around at will."

"Tunnel?" Gaius questioned.

"Er... that's what a teleportation spell looks like," Merlin explained hastily.

"Really."

"Yup."

Gaius sighed. "Sometimes I think I'm getting a bit old for this," he said.

"You'd better not be," Merlin said. "We've got a long road ahead of us."

Gaius looked at him strangely. "I certainly hope not," he snapped, but without much conviction.

Merlin raised his eyebrows. "I wasn't lying when I told Nimueh I was going to create an underground escape route for captured magic users."

Gaius narrowed his eyes. "Merlin, I want you to talk to me before you do anything stupid."

"Fine, then. I'm going to see the druids first," Merlin said. "That's part of the reason I need a quick method of transportation."

"They're a pacifist group of people," Gaius said. "What makes you think they'll help you?"

"I'm not putting them in any danger," Merlin defended. "Well... not _much_ danger, anyways. Besides, they'll probably listen to me just because I'm, well, me."

Gaius snorted. "Just because you're a powerful warlock, doesn't mean..."

"It would if I were Emrys," Merlin interrupted. "Now, I only have another hour before Arthur gets out of entertaining the Mercian knights, so I hope you don't mind if I get on with what I was doing?"

Gaius's jaw was dropped open. "Emrys," he mouthed.

Merlin made a face. "Oh, come on. Surely that's not that big of a surprise – I mean, look at what I can do!" He snapped his fingers and turned everything in the room green, including himself. He snapped his fingers again and turned everything back to normal. Merlin giggled to himself – one of the best spells he'd ever invented, in his personal opinion.

Although, Arthur hadn't been pleased with the pink castle.

"Come on! It's almost red!" Merlin had complained, while he'd been frantically (or at least appearing to be frantic) trying to change the stonework back to gray before the foreign dignitaries arrived. It had been fun watching Arthur greet them with a straight face – with a glowing, pink castle in the background.

"Who told you?" Gaius finally asked, bringing Merlin out of his memories.

"Hm? Oh, Kilgharrah," Merlin lied easily, dismissing the question.

That made Gaius remember... "What did you talk to the dragon about last night," he questioned. "Was that when he told you?"

"What?" Merlin asked. "Pfft, no. I asked him how to cure seizures."

Gaius's eyes widened. "You didn't..."

Merlin raised his eyebrows. "Of course I did. I'll be very surprised if that merchant boy ever suffers from them again," he said firmly. "And no, no one saw me. I put the entire inn to sleep."

Gaius gave his ward a gratified smile. "My boy, I don't what I'll do with you. That was very good of you, Merlin."

Merlin smiled back. "Thanks," he said gratefully, glad that Gaius was beginning to accept the fact that Merlin could get on by himself. "May I go back to meditating now?" he asked dully.

Gaius chuckled.

"Very well, but we're talking later," he said, shaking a finger at the boy.

"Don't count on it. Arthur's in a 'go muck out the stables' mood," Merlin sniffed. "And he says it's my fault! Sure, I may have been holding the hangover cure before it flew out the window. But he tackled me!"

Gaius snorted and backed out of Merlin's room, leaving the warlock to concentrate in peace.

O o O

"You're late, Merlin," Arthur drawled as Merlin pushed open the door, squeezing to fit both himself and Arthur's wooden tub through the slim opening.

"You're lucky I came at all," Merlin answered with a tired retort, lugging the tub near the fireplace.

Arthur gave Merlin a look. He realized that his manservant had a scrunched look on his face, as though he was fighting off immense bouts of pain. Arthur had seen the same look before many times on stubborn knights during tournaments.

But to see _Merlin_ wearing that expression? Arthur frowned.

"Merlin?" he asked cautiously.

"What?" Merlin asked pointedly.

"You don't look well," Arthur said finally.

"Ah, well, I _do _have a splitting headache," Merlin said, almost sarcastically. He placed several logs in the fireplace.

Arthur leaned back against his bed-post. "Only a headache?" he asked, somewhat annoyed. He wasn't used to this whole, 'showing concern' stuff, and here he was, doing it for a mere headache. "But you look terrible."

"My head feels like it's about to explode," Merlin snorted. "Of course it hurts."

Merlin stopped trying to create a log pyramid and turned to look at Arthur. The prince was eying him as casually as he could, but Merlin could see the nervousness in his eyes. So he smiled slightly.

"Worried for me, are you, Sire?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Arthur coughed. "Of course not. Whatever gave you that idea?" he snapped.

Merlin shrugged, then decided not to tease the prince any further. He was trying after all, in his own way.

"Don't worry about it, Arthur," he said casually, going back to setting up the fire. "I get headaches like these often enough. I'm used to it."

Arthur froze. Merlin got headaches like this all the time?

"How often?" he questioned hoarsely, although he desperately wanted to keep this conversation _casual_. Merlin didn't answer quickly enough, going along with his chore as though nothing were wrong. So Arthur demanded, "Merlin, _how often_?"

Merlin turned around again, holding up the tinder he'd been about to light. Arthur was no longer leaning casually against the bedpost; his posture had been replaced by a stiff, upright position.

The warlock narrowed his eyes. "Why?" he asked, and then Arthur realized that Merlin had picked up on his anxiety. How could he tell? It drove Arthur insane. For some strange, untouchable reason, Merlin could always tell.

Arthur cursed inwardly but didn't react, instead, he waved an arm dismissively. "No real reason. I just think you should... take it easier, okay?" he said, staring at Merlin.

Merlin frowned, suspicious.

Arthur – _Prince_ Arthur at least – was never this concerned about his well-being. What had he done to change that?

It didn't seem as though he was going to get an answer from Arthur, though, because the prince was bolting for the door. "Just have my bath drawn by the time I get back," he said loftily, before quickly exiting. Merlin didn't even get a chance to protest/

He supposed he should be grateful.

Now he wouldn't have to haul twenty buckets of water up the stairs simply for the sake of appearances. Relaxing against the stone wall, Merlin's eyes glowed.

O o O

Gaius was pounding at some dried herbs when he heard his door squeak open. He turned, prepared to greet Lady Annabeth, the potion for her son ready, but was startled to see Prince Arthur standing in the doorway instead.

"Arthur?" he asked. "Is there something I can do for you?"

Arthur took a hesitant step into the physician's chambers. As a boy, he used to come down to see Gaius almost every day, but as he got older, the visits became far and in between, and only to dress wounds (or to yell at Merlin). Arthur felt slightly guilty about stopping. After all, Gaius had always been there for him, even when his own father had been unavailable.

"Arthur?"

Arthur blinked and realized that he'd been staring into space. He looked over at Gaius, who looked so unconcerned that he almost wondered if his worries were unfounded.

But he had to know. He had to be absolutely certain.

"Merlin gets headaches," he blurted out quickly, finding that the best way to deal with awkward situations was usually head-on.

Gaius raised his eyebrow. "Come again, Sire?" he asked.

Arthur took a deep breath. "Merlin just told me that he gets bad headaches... all the time," he drifted off, hoping Gaius would understand the implications. He didn't really feel like elaborating.

Gaius's eyebrow raised even further. Then he frowned.

"This is the first I've heard of it," he said.

For a second, Arthur was almost hopeful that Merlin had lied – just to make Arthur feel bad.

But then Gaius added, almost sounding annoyed, "But then again, that boy certainly likes to keep things to himself." He looked Arthur in the eye. "It's possible he's been hiding them from me."

Arthur felt his heart rise into his throat.

"Gaius?" he pleaded.

Gaius looked solemn. "Are you thinking of Fredrick?" he asked knowingly,

Arthur wilted.

Gaius sighed. "Somehow I doubt that Merlin has the same illness that Fredrick did," he said.

"Merlin looks dead on his feet, Gaius," Arthur argued, although not entirely certain why he was arguing. "It looks like his headache was really bad."

Gaius frowned. Why did Merlin never tell him about these things? The boy should know that he'd be happy enough to help.

"I asked him if he was alright," Arthur said, and missed the raised eyebrow Gaius sent in his direction, "and he shrugged it off and said he got headaches like that _often_."

Gaius's frown deepened. "Did he really," he muttered.

"If he's like Fredrick..." Arthur trailed off, his voice ending in a whisper.

Gaius was somewhat surprised. He knew how Merlin felt about Arthur, but this was the first he'd seen of those deep feelings being reciprocated.

"My boy," he put a comforting hand on Arthur's shoulder, "Merlin is a soul who doesn't get nearly enough sleep, plus he's constantly working – for either you or me. I wouldn't be surprised if the stress of it all gives him headaches every now and again."

Arthur didn't look particularly reassured. At the same time, the prince realized that he now had new things to think about. He hadn't known that Merlin worked for Gaius as well, though he supposed it should have been obvious.

Gaius, sensing Arthur's dissatisfaction with his answer, reassured, "Just to make sure, I'll ask him about it after the feast, and see if he has any more symptoms."

Arthur nodded slowly. He could deal with that.

O o O

Merlin closed the door behind them with a bang, not even caring. With his massive headache amplified by the rowdy feast, he felt utterly drained.

"I'm going straight to bed," he announced. "Arthur's armor can wait."

"Just a moment, Merlin," Gaius ordered sternly.

Merlin sighed, and twisted to face his guardian. "What?" he asked drowsily.

"Why didn't you tell me about your headaches?" Gaius demanded.

Merlin blinked, surprised. "How did you figure it out?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Besides the fact that you look awful? Arthur told me," Gaius said.

"_Arthur_ told you?" Merlin asked, incredulous. At least now he knew where Arthur had rushed off to while he prepared the prat's bath.

Gaius nodded stiffly.

"Why?" Merlin asked. "I knew he was bothered by something when I told him, but... why?"

Gaius sighed. "When he was about ten, his best friend died a rather horrible death – one of the beginning symptoms of his illness were bouts of headaches that would turn on and off rather frequently. Then one day, he keeled over in the middle of sparring practice... it all went downhill from there. He lasted about two weeks." Gaius sighed again sadly, remembering those weeks with a painful grimace.

Merlin frowned. He knew for a fact that Arthur hardly had any real friends at all during his childhood. Most of them had been friendly simply for the honor of claiming the prince as a playmate. In fact, in all his time with Arthur, there was only one who he'd ever... Merlin's eyes widened. Oh.

"Fredrick..." he whispered.

Gaius raised his eyebrows. "That was his name, yes," he said, looking at Merlin incredulously.

Merlin quickly searched for an explanation. "I- I heard Arthur mention him once, I think," he said, trying to look genuine.

Gaius stared at Merlin. Arthur never talked about Fredrick – not to _anyone_. There was no way he'd ever talk about his departed friend so casually, especially to his manservant, even if it was Merlin. Now that Gaius thought of it, this was not the first time his ward had known random information that he shouldn't have.

He wondered if it was a magical ability that Merlin hadn't told him of.

Perhaps.

But as far as Gaius could tell, Merlin was no seer.

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"You can tell Arthur not to worry," Merlin said, either unaware of or ignoring Gaius's look. "My headaches aren't the cause of any horrible illnesses, it's simply a result of manipulating magic at such a large scale directly."

"That causes headaches?" Gaius asked, annoyed that Merlin had left out that particular detail from their earlier conversation.

Merlin grimaced, touching his forehead. "Unfortunately. Incurable too – has to go away naturally," he lamented. "I think it has to do with the fact that my magical threads are bonding with the foreign threads I've manipulated and are causing ripple distortions in the surrounding magic."

Gaius wasn't sure he'd entirely followed that. He knew about magic, but mostly for practical use and not so much of the theoretical mumbo-jumbo.

"How exactly am I supposed to reassure Arthur, then?" he snapped, more annoyed that Merlin was keeping things from him than the problem of Arthur's worries.

Merlin grinned slightly. "You can tell him that all the chores he's giving me are causing excessive amounts of stress," he said with a laugh. And with a glint in his eye he added, "Please specify mucking out the stables – that's not even really my job, anyways. We've got a legion of stableboys for that!"

The with a satisfied sniff he proclaimed, "Right then, I'm off. Good night, Gaius!"

His door shut with a click.

Gaius sighed. That boy was going to be the death of him

O o O

The next day, as Merlin prepared Arthur for the archery tournament, he noticed with fond exasperation that the prince was quieter and less insulting than usual.

"I'm not sick you know," he said finally, firmly, as he handed Arthur his belt.

Arthur took the belt before his servant's statement registered. He nearly dropped the belt. "What?" the prince asked, feeling mortified. Gaius had told him? He almost groaned; Merlin wasn't supposed to know that he'd been worried about him.

"It's just because I don't get enough sleep," Merlin said casually – that was the story he and Gaius had decided upon. "Besides, I've been getting them for years. If it was something bad, don't you think I'd know by now?"

Arthur clenched his teeth and nodded wordlessly.

Then he froze when he felt Merlin's hand on his shoulder.

"Thanks for noticing," his manservant said in a low voice, a surprising amount of gratitude filling his voice. Then of course he had to ruin it by laughing, " There's hope for you yet!"

Arthur shrugged Merlin's hand off his shoulder. He turned and demanded, "And what exactly that supposed to mean?"

Merlin just smiled and turned around, humming to himself as he gathered up the clothes Arthur had strewn across the floor.

Arthur scowled. _Idiot_, he thought to himself, trying not to be affected by Merlin's praise (if that's what it could be called).

"Oh, Merlin," he said, changing the subject, and thus, the awkward atmosphere, "you'll have to start packing for a week's journey."

He heard Merlin sigh.

"Why?"

"Because we're going to make a visit to Lord Reynard," he said. "He gave up part of his land for the treaty with Mercia, it's only proper to thank him personally."

Merlin did his best to keeping from laughing at the irony. Baron Reynard was _exactly_ the person he wanted to see.

O o O

The patrol of Camelot's knights reigned in their horses when the forest suddenly thinned, revealing long, open fields.

"That wasn't so bad, now was it, Merlin?" Arthur laughed, slapping his manservant on the back Merlin winced, trying not to fall off his horse. He really needed at least twelve hours of sleep if he ever wanted to function normally again.

"Says the man who slept in while I did all the chores," Merlin retorted with a sniff, grateful to finally see signs of civilization ahead. He had originally thought that he'd have at least a week to prepare for this trip, but no... hours after Bayard's party had left, Uther had sent them on their way.

Merlin was just glad that he'd had the foresight to pack everything the night before.

"Come on, Merlin, lighten up," Arthur said, still looking annoyingly chipper. He tapped the sides of his horse and started the group up again. "Come on, you lot! We only have a couple miles left!"

The knights all cheered and brought their horses to a canter behind Arthur.

Merlin snorted and told his horse – Reginald – that they were going to stay at a trot in order to keep Haven company. The poor gelding was carrying the majority their supplies after all. Merlin was determined not to torture the tired animal further than Arthur already had by making him _run_. Maybe it was pure empathy – he related with the animal rather well.

Reginald seemed rather fine with this. He liked Merlin. The human was more interesting and less stupid than the other humans. He didn't even use the reigns.

"Would you like me to get off?" Merlin asked, leaning forward to pat the side of Reginald's head.

Reginald snorted. He was a warhorse, not a weakling.

Merlin laughed.

"Just like Arthur then, huh? Well thanks – I don't particularly feel like walking," he told the horse amiably. Reginald didn't react. The warlock wasn't sure how much horses understood him when he talked to them, but whenever he said something, they at least seemed to get the gist of it.

He smiled contentedly, and wondered how long it would take Arthur to realize that Merlin wasn't directly behind him.

O o O

Once Merlin reached the drawbridge (he was going have to tease Arthur later about his castle not having a proper moat) a familiar face walked between him and the entrance.

He almost called out, before remembering with some frustration that they'd technically never met before.

Miles looked really young. Well, not as young as Merlin, but he had hardly any wrinkles at all. In Merlin's time, the soldier had retired from fighting to being Lord Reynard's chief advisor. The man was brilliant, if his history was anything to go by – not that most of it had happened yet.

"Are you Prince Arthur's servant?" the man asked, somewhat rhetorically.

"More or less," Merlin answered.

Miles raised his eyebrows but didn't comment. "The rest of your party is inside. I've been given instructions to take you to the stables then direct you to Patrick, who will take you to your master's quarters."

Merlin dismounted his horse, figuring it would be polite to walk from there on out.

"How late am I?" he asked.

"Thirty minutes," Miles answered. "Not to worry – you missed nothing that concerns you."

Merlin snorted and allowed Miles to lead him on.

"So who are you?" he asked Miles.

Miles turned around, about to answer, but was surprised into silence. "Those horses must like you," he commented with amusement, noticing that they followed the servant without any prodding or tugging. He wasn't even holding onto the reigns.

Merlin smiled and glanced back at Haven and Reginald. "Animals like me," he commented, smiling at them fondly.

"Apparently," Miles said with a half-smile. "The name is Miles, captain of the guard."

"Merlin," the warlock introduced himself. "And I'm nobody and everybody all at the same time."

Miles raised his eyebrows.

"Sometimes Arthur can't make up is mind," Merlin explained in a conspiratorial voice.

Miles chuckled slightly.

"You are an odd one," Miles said conversationally. "I would have expected that the prince's manservant would be much more... subordinate." He frowned suddenly. "Or are you only like this when you aren't around Arthur?"

Merlin laughed outright. "He wishes," he supplied with a smirk.

Miles laughed appreciatively. This was a young man he could relate to, more or less.

Merlin grinned inwardly, pleased that Miles had been so receptive to him, even without knowing who he really was.

Unfortunately, their time together didn't last very long. The captain helped Merlin unpack the horses and called in a stableboy to take care of them, but after that, Merlin was handed over to Patrick. As the servant gave him the short castle tour, Merlin wondered briefly if the man was a cousin of George.

O o O

At supper, the table Reynard had graciously set places for all of Camelot's knights, even for those who weren't senior officers.

Goodness knows Reynard wasn't a friend to Uther – not that anyone would ever know until after years after the king was dead – but still, the man was unfailingly courteous and ever loyal to his country (even if he disagreed with many of his sovereign's policies). Merlin had liked the man as soon as he'd set eyes on him all those years ago. Reynard had been a bit cold towards Arthur at first, but as soon as he'd assured himself of the young king's sincerity, he'd opened up.

When Merlin thought of this, he wondered suddenly if any of that coldness would show up tonight. Probably not. Reynard could be an amazing actor when he needed to.

"Prince Arthur," the baron greeted with a formal bow, then rose with a smile.

Arthur stepped forwards and clasped arms with the man. "On behalf of my father, and of all Camelot, we thank you," he said sincerely. "Mercia would have been difficult to reconcile with if you had not been so willing to donate a portion of your land."

"The negotiations went well, I trust?" Reynard asked, leading Arthur to his chair.

"Very smoothly," Arthur said with a nod. Merlin let out a small cough.

"I hear you were part of it all," Reynard said with a slight smile. "Your father must think highly of you."

Merlin, standing in the background with the other servants, could almost see Arthur's head swelling with the praise. Still, Arthur was modest as he said, "I do the best I can."

Reynard nodded at sat down at the head of the table. Everyone else followed suit, looking rather starved.

"I apologize that my wife is unable to attend," Reynard said. "She was not feeling well this morning."

Merlin's eyes flickered knowingly.

Arthur's look was sympathetic. "I hope she has a speedy recovery."

"So do I," Reynard agreed lightly.

There was a slight pause.

"My father has sent some gifts for you," Arthur said, deciding that now would be a good time to give them. He motioned to Merlin. Some of the younger knights looked slightly annoyeds knowing that their meal was going to be delayed.

Merlin stepped out of the shadows, bearing several of the bulky objects Haven had carried for over fifty miles. In his opinion, they were rather boring: a really nice sword (Arthur had attempted to explain _why_ it was a nice sword, but Merlin refused to hear it), some dusty family records, a tome dealing in herb-lore and healing, and a seal of honor.

Reynard looked at the wrapped gifts with interest.

"It was the least we could do," Arthur said.

Technically, Reynard was already exempt from paying taxes for seven years, but the lord knew better than to refuse an offered gift, so he nodded his head in thanks.

"Bring them here, Merlin," Arthur instructed.

Merlin brought them forward and placed them on the table in front of Reynard. Just as he lifted his head, their eyes met.

"My lord," Merlin said with a bow, breaking eye contact. He took in a deep breath, hoping that what he was planning later that night wouldn't backfire.

O o O

Baron Reyard sat at his desk, staring at the candle's glow. With a strip of his land gone, there were at least three-hundred people who were now homeless. Even with Uther's generous gifts, it was going to be difficult to keep them all alive.

There was a slight gust of wind and the sound of boots thudding against the floor in front of him. The candle flickered until it went out.

Immediately alert, Reyard rose up and held his sword in front of him defensively. He growled in anticipation as his eyes adjusted to the shadows, only to meet the gaze of Arthur's manservant.

He blinked and nearly dropped his sword arm.

The young man's eyes were _glowing_.

* * *

><p>AN: Perhaps you noticed that Gaius is getting suspicious. I just wanted to say that I was inspired by Americanathogwarts to do that. We'll see how it goes. I haven't decided whether or not he'll actually figure it out.


	14. Clumsiness is relative

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

* * *

><p>Merlin blinked, ridding his eyes of the golden light. "Whoa," he said, feeling slightly woozy. He staggered forward slightly, causing Reynard's grip on his sword to tighten.<p>

"Who are you?" Reynard asked in a dangerous voice.

"One second, please," Merlin asked, leaning against the table. He took in several deep, labored breaths, feeling as though he'd been under water for several minutes. Then, carefully, he straightened himself. "Sorry," he wheezed. "Breaking in a new teleportation spell – not pretty."

The sword inched forwards until Reynard had it pressed against Merlin's neck.

Merlin eyed the metal stick.

"That's not going to do you much good, you know," he warned, flicking the metal with his fingers, making a soft pinging noise.

Reynard's nose twitched.

"What? It's a sword!" Merlin pointed out, exasperated. "I can't help but feel slightly insulted when people think they can actually use them against me... unless it's been forged in a dragon's breath but that's another matter entirely!"

Reynard gave him a bemused look, but lowered the sword slightly. "Let's say it's for my own comfort," the baron said bluntly.

"Right," Merlin said, raising his eyebrows. "Even though you're perfectly aware that it won't help you at all?"

"You don't know that," Reynard said, looking uptight.

"Then you don't know me," Merlin said. "So believe me when I say, even if I were knocked out, dying of poison, and raving mad, it wouldn't help you at all."

Reynard sighed, obviously not in the mood for arguing.

"Very well, then," he said stiffly, and slowly laid the sword on the table. With no need to guard himself anymore, Reynard let himself sit back into his chair. He gestured for Merlin to do the same. "Pull up a chair."

"Thanks," Merlin said with relief. Reynard hardly blinked when the supposed servant used magic to slide a chair from the corner of the room. Merlin plopped into it backwards, still feeling a bit dizzy.

"So who are you?" Reynard asked. "Why have you disguised yourself?"

"Disguised myself...?" Merlin questioned slowly, looking down at himself.

"As Arthur's manservant?" Reynard prompted.

Merlin chuckled. "Because that's who I am?" he suggested with a raised eyebrow.

Reynard narrowed his eyes. "You're jesting."

"Sometimes I wish I was," Merlin said pleasantly. "The name's Merlin by the way."

Reynard nodded his head in greeting. Then he shook his head, ridding his head of the side-tracked conversation. "You have magic," he said bluntly.

"If that wasn't obvious already, then yes," Merlin agreed.

"I assume you have druid connections, then?" Reynard inquired.

"Why's that?" Merlin asked.

Reynard tilted his head in surprise. "How else did you know it was safe to do magic around me?"

"I didn't. I was actually trying to get to the kitchens and went a bit off-course," Merlin said with a straight face.

As Reynard's expression crossed between incredulity and horror, Merlin laughed. "That time I _was_ kidding," he reassured the stricken nobleman.

Reynard's left eye twitched.

"Kidding," the man repeated with narrowed eyes.

"Of course!" Merlin exclaimed. "I'm not an idiot, no matter what Arthur tells you."

"So you do have connections with druids then," Reynard stated.

"Erm... kind of," Merlin said hesitantly. He didn't really know the names of any of the druid leaders during this era – by the time he actually bothered to properly meet up with the different clans, most of them had been replaced by new leaders because of either death or retirement. "Know Iseldir?" he put out the only name he knew might have some weight.

"Iseldir?" the man considered for a moment. Then he shook his head. "I may have heard his name mentioned every now and again, but I've never met the man personally.

Merlin sighed. "Not surprising, really. His clan lives in Essetir, generally."

"Cenred's kingdom?" Reynard asked, confused.

"That's where I'm from originally," Merlin informed.

"Ah," the baron exclaimed, not really understanding at all. "Then how on earth did you become manservant to the prince?"

"Within my first week in Camelot I saved Arthur's life from a vengeful sorceress," Merlin explained calmly.

"Arthur _knows_ you have magic?" Reynard asked with wide eyes, making automatic assumptions.

"What?" Merlin exclaimed. "No! Where'd you get that idea? I used my magic _secretly_, as usual."

"To save the son of a man who's killed hundreds of your kind," Reynard said bluntly, sounding skeptical.

"Magic users aren't a 'kind', they are people who have a talent, nothing more, nothing less," Merlin corrected. "That's the first mistake Uther made – he separated anyone who could use magic into one category when in reality we're no more similar or different from each other from the rest of the human race. It be like executing people for knowing how to juggle."

Reynard raised his eyebrows.

Merlin swiped at his hair, looking exasperated. "Okay, maybe it's not like outlawing juggling," he admitted.

"But still, you've thought about this quite a lot," Reynard noted.

"Haven't you?" Merlin asked.

"Only where it concerns me," Reynard answered simply.

Merlin stared at him. Then he gave a lopsided smile. "Ever the pragmatist," he chortled, shaking his head.

Reynard lifted his head and looked at Merlin with his dark eyes. "You seem to know a lot about me," he observed. "How?"

Merlin found that he was going to have to lie again. "I may not be acquainted with many druids on a first-name basis, but I've heard enough rumors to figure out what was going on," he answered. "You've got quite the operation going. It's rather brilliant, I think."

Reynard looked wary. Just because Merlin had magic didn't mean his intentions were honorable. "And what do you want with me?"

"To make a deal," Merlin said.

Reynard narrowed his eyes. "And if I don't agree to it? Will you tell the king?"

Merlin frowned. "You haven't even heard what the deal is yet," he said and reminded, "Besides, if I tell either Uther or Arthur anything about your operation, you can just tell them that I'm a sorcerer, can't you?"

"Would they even believe me if I tried?" Reynard scoffed.

Merlin said grimly, "The Pendragons take accusations to magic very seriously. You wouldn't have any trouble at all convincing them."

Lord Reynard looked bitter. "And thus Uther ends up killing even those who are innocent."

Merlin leaned forward and rested his elbows against the desk. "There's one thing I'd like to know, before I tell you about my offer," he said.

Reynard raised his eyebrows. "And that is...?"

"Why have you never tried to remove Uther from the throne?" Merlin asked.

Reynard shrugged. "Not enough men," he replied. "Too much bloodshed. Besides, then I'd have to promote myself as king if I wanted to make sure no one worse replaced Uther – not a particularly desirable outcome if you ask me."

He leaned forward and asked, "So why haven't you killed Uther, with all the perfect opportunities your position grants you?"

Merlin smiled wryly. "Because I'd rather have magic brought back peacefully. I don't want people to brought into further hatred against it."

Reynard nodded stiffly.

"Plus, Arthur's still cooking," Merlin added nonchalantly.

Reynard raised his eyebrows.

Merlin offered an explanation. "Oh, he's the Once and Future King, you know, destined to bring magic back and unite Albion."

The facial expression on Reynard's face was memorable.

"You can't be serious."

Merlin smiled slightly. "Familiar with the druid prophecies then?" he asked jovially.

"My wife more than me, but I've heard them often enough," Reynard admitted.

"What have you heard?" Merlin asked, propping his chin on his fists, curious to see how his old friend saw the legends.

Reynard thought a moment. "What you said basically. The time of darkness and storms will be broken by the sun to create a rainbow."

Merlin blinked. He'd never heard that one before. "Say what?" he asked, hoping the man would elaborate.

Reynard cleared his throat, looking a little embarrassed. "It's a metaphor," he said stiffly. He didn't want to admit that he'd come up with the analogy himself. His wife had laughed amiably when he'd repeated it.

"Yes, I can see that," Merlin said. "But what's what?"

"Well, I figure that the storms would be Uther's reign," Reynard answered.

Merlin snorted. "No kidding."

"The sun would be Lord Emrys, the most powerful warlock to ever live, and the rainbow would be the Once and Future King," Reynard finished.

"A rainbow..." Merlin stared for a second then jolted his elbows off the table unintentionally by letting out a burst of laughter. "Arthur... a rainbow! A rainbow!" he wheezed between laughs. "Ha ha! A rainbow... hee hee!"

"Are you finished?" Baron Reynard asked dully, none too pleased that his metaphor was being mocked.

Merlin straightened and let out a final giggle before answering, "Oh, quite. A rainbow... yes. That's very good."

Reynard wrinkled his nose, frowning. "And you think that Prince Arthur – _Arthur_ of all people – is the Once and Future King?" he asked after a moment, vowing to never let anyone in on his imagery ever again.

"Not yet, but he will be," Merlin clarified.

"I hadn't heard of it yet," Reynard said. "Are you sure?"

"Positive," Merlin replied cheerfully. "It's a bit of a new development, is all."

Reynard frowned.

"Then... do you know _Emrys_ as well?" the baron asked tentatively. He looked a bit like an owl staring with wide eyes like that.

Merlin grinned.

"My dear Reynard, you're looking at him."

O o O

Merlin patted the side of Reginald's head, humming one of Gwaine's tavern tunes. The horse flicked his ears happily, liking the tingling feeling Merlin's hands gave off.

"Would you stop that blasted humming!" a sullen prince demanded from beside him.

Merlin glanced over in amusement. Arthur looked absolutely miserable, slouching in his saddle, the rain flattening his golden locks against his forehead. It was as though the prince was in a perpetual cloud of gloominess.

"Certainly, sire," Merlin agreed cheerfully. He was rather enjoying the rain.

Arthur growled. "And what got _you_ in such a good mood?"

"The kitchen packed our food for me; I hardly had to do any work at all," Merlin replied, and for once was being perfectly honest.

Arthur snorted and mumbled something that sounded like, "Ruddy peasant."

Merlin continued to grin, going over exactly what he was going to have to do within the next week. The talk with Reynard had gone exceedingly well. It hadn't taken many demonstrations to prove that he was Emrys; after turning the entire room a bright yellow, Reynard had hurriedly agreed that he was the legendary warlock and then demanded that Merlin change everything back to normal.

Now that everything was sorted with the baron, all he needed was the cooperation of several druid clans. If the whole thing turned out, Merlin would probably start looking forward to an execution, just to see if the plan would work properly.

Even unfocused as he was, Merlin blamed himself for what happened next.

He and Arthur whirled around when Sir Edgar let out a grunt of pain, only to see him double over in his saddle, an arrow protruding from his thigh.

"Bandits!" Arthur shouted, glancing in the trees. His sword was already in his hand.

Merlin hissed and brought Reginald to a halt, cursing himself for not paying more attention. This must be the group that multiple citizens had been complaining to Uther about. After visiting Lord Reynard, eliminating them was supposed to be Arthur's next assignment... with about twenty more knights than they had currently.

Another shout came from Sir Dalibor along with a resounding, pain-filled neigh. His horse had been shot out from underneath him.

As about five arrows whizzed past Merlin's ear, one of them bouncing off the pots that hung from Haven's back, he realized with a sense of annoyance that he was going to have to interfere – magically – unless he wanted them to all get picked off one by one. In one fluid movement, Merlin swung off Reginald and raised his hand in the air.

Hoping that the knights would be too distracted by the thirty-plus bandits surrounding them to notice Merlin's changing eye color, Merlin dismantled every crossbow he could lay his eyes on. The owners all cried out in disbelief then angrily tossed aside their useless weapons, unaware that other members of their party were having similar problems.

Satisfied that he had eliminated the immediate threat, Merlin placed a quick protective enchantment over Haven, who was looking spooked, and sprinted over to the group of knights, urging Reginald to follow after him.

Reginald in his wake, Merlin skidded up to Sir Edgar, who, despite his leg, had managed to get his horse in the outward-facing circle position Arthur had demanded.

"Are you all right?" Merlin shouted above the roar of enemies. It sounded like they were about to charge.

Edgar looked down at Merlin in surprise, looking a little green, but not useless. "I'll be fine!" he yelled, and shifted his horse so that he wouldn't be facing the servant anymore.

Rolling his eyes, Merlin decided that the man was still well enough to fight and made his way to Sir Dalibor, who was on the outskirts of the group, sword in hand, but looking painfully small without his horse... and rather muddy.

"Use Reginald!" Merlin ordered the knight, rain dripping off his nose as he gestured.

Again, a look of surprise. Reginald snorted indignantly and Merlin gave him a scolding flick on his ear.

"GO!" he shouted to Dalibor as the bandits began charging in from all sides. The knight barely had time to mount the charger before he was forced to defend himself from all sides.

"Merlin what are you doing?" Arthur yelled over the fighting, swinging his horse to stand beside his servant. He'd already killed two of the bandits; his eyes were glittering with adrenaline.

"Being useful!" Merlin shouted back. "Now do you have a sword I can borrow or will I have to steal one?"

Arthur opened his mouth to answer, but his eyes widened in fear as he caught sight of something behind Merlin.

Merlin reacted accordingly.

Time literally slowed for the warlock as he twisted around, simultaneously grabbing the knife Arthur kept by his saddle, and ducked as the sword lunging at his heart nearly succeeded in killing him, instead managing to slice his cheek. Unfazed by the small wound, Merlin continued forward, catching the bandits's collar with his knife, he used it (along with a well-placed front kick) to push the man backwards, pinning him to the muddy ground. He ended the spell, knowing that staying in slow-time would make Arthur suspicious.

Before the bandit could register what had happened, Merlin quickly used a pressure point on the man's arm to weaken the grip he had on his crudely-made sword.

"Never mind!" Merlin called to Arthur brightly as he twirled his newly-acquired weapon around in his hand, testing its grip.

Arthur was staring at him with a look of frank disbelief.

"Arthur!" Merlin warned, seeing a one-eyed bandit with a mace hotfooting his way towards the prince.

Arthur turned and managed to block the swing in time before it knocked him off his horse.

As Merlin took his foot off the chest of the bandit he'd pinned, the man made a move to get up, but Merlin instinctively froze him and grabbed the knife he'd left speared in the man's collar (the man, named Denny, would have nightmares for the rest of his short life of being unable to move while the hooves of horses smashed dangerously close to his face).

Merlin examined their situation. There were still over thirty bandits surrounding them, a seemingly endless stream replacing those who had fallen. The nine defenders of Camelot were attacking their opponents fiercely but they were tiring quickly. Their only losses so far included the death of a horse, a few injuries, and a raid on their supplies, but Merlin knew their luck wasn't going to last much longer.

Then of course there was the relentless drizzling...

Merlin ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up at funny angles. What to do, what to do? Falling tree branches weren't going to solve things this time.

"Ahhhh!" another bandit charged Merlin.

Arthur, watching his usually pitiful manservant out of the corner of his eye, saw Merlin casually relieve the man of his weapon, then knock him out with the pummel of his knife. The bandit fell into the mud with a splat. Arthur took out his frustrations on the two men in front of them. Merlin had been holding back on him! During warm-ups, Merlin could barely keep a grip on his sword, let alone fight off three athletic males.

Yet that was exactly what the servant was doing... and he didn't even look like he was paying proper attention. His eyes had that million-miles-away look.

Arthur kicked a man away from his horse, determined to confront Merlin as soon as he got the chance. _If_ he got the chance... Arthur shook away his grim thoughts and urged his horse towards the group of bandits converging on Sir Wybert, who was looking ready to fall out of his saddle.

Then it started to rain.

It didn't just rain, it _poured_. Arthur slowed his horse, finding that he was unable to keep the water from running into his eyes.

"Knights of Camelot! Arthur!"

Arthur shifted his heads towards the call. Merlin. His voice sounded amplified – maybe the wind was blowing the right direction.

"Haven knows the way out of this!" Merlin's voice shouted above everything.

Arthur felt like punching the idiot. Did he _want_ the bandits to attack him? The prince snarled and led his horse in the direction of the sound. Actually, if he wanted to be honest with himself, he barely had to do anything – the horse seemed to go by itself.

"Merlin! Stay where you are!" he shouted into the maelstrom of wind and rain. He couldn't even hear himself.

"Hurry up!" Merlin shouted again, sounding a little desperate. Actually, he was worried that the cloud would run out of rain before he managed to get everyone out.

Gradually, Arthur noticed that as he made his way towards Merlin's voice, the rain and wind began to lighten. The horse no longer had to lower its head in order to trudge forward.

"Arthur? Where are you? ARTH- oh," Merlin stopped shouting when he caught sight of the prince clinging to his horse, looking around at the sudden clarity of the air.

All of his other knights were already outside the range of the pouring rain, either looking anxiously at their leader or too out of focus to care. _Where are the bandits?_ Arthur took a confused look back at the wall of water, where he could still hear the muffled shouts of confusion. Hadn't they heard Merlin, too?

As his horse shook its head, spraying water on everything within three feet of him, Arthur decided that it must have been the horses who had known. After all, hadn't Haven been the one to lead Merlin out of the storm?

Merlin stood there, dripping wet, grinning at Arthur, his arms wrapped around Haven's neck. Yeah, that was probably it, Arthur nodded to himself, satisfied.

"Isn't that the strangest weather you've ever seen?" Leon asked in wonder, staring at the wall of thick rain.

"It came on so suddenly!" one of the other knights exclaimed.

"Is it sorcery?" another asked fearfully.

Merlin frowned slightly.

"No," Arthur spoke up, waving away the suggestion, "I've heard of this before – rare, but hardly sorcery."

The other members of his company sighed in relief, including Merlin.

"Well, I guess we have been having quite a bit of strange weather lately," Leon said thoughtfully, still staring at the rain.

"Lots more thunderstorms than usual," another knight agreed. They all nodded.

Merlin grinned, his eyes twinkling.

"Right then!" the prince yelled. "Let's move out before the rain does!"

O o O

"You ran into the bandits?" Uther asked, giving the ragtag, mud-caked group a concerned look. They (meaning Merlin) had done their best to rid their clothing and chainmail of mud in a passing stream, but it hadn't done much good.

"Yes, Father," Arthur answered.

"They have moved to Lord Reynard's area?" Uther asked rhetorically. Arthur nodded anyways.

"Injuries?" Uther inquired.

"The worst were Sir Edgar and Sir Wybert – they're seeing the physician as we speak."

Uther nodded in approval.

"How many are left?" the king asked.

"Too many," Arthur said uncomfortably. "There were about fifty of them – if we had not used the rain as a cover, I don't think we would have escaped."

"Fifty?" Uther said with a frown.

"I'm afraid so, Father," Arthur said.

"You must go back with more knights and get rid of them," Uther said firmly. "Tomorrow, before they move again."

"Yes, Father," Arthur bowed.

From the edge of the hall, Merlin sighed.

O o O

Gaius looked up quickly as Merlin came through the door. "My boy, are you all right?"

Merlin looked over wearily. "Maybe after twenty hours of sleep," he replied. He'd just finished putting away Arthur's things, doing both his and Arthur's laundry, drawing up Arthur's bath, and then re-making Arthur's bed because the prince had soiled his clean sheets by lying on them in his muddy uniform.

"Sir Edgar told me what happened – I just sent him back to his quarters," Gauis explained. "Sudden rain? Really, Merlin, you're going to get yourself caught."

Merlin sighed. "How's Wybert?" he changed the subject quietly, glancing over at the knight's prone figure.

Gaius blinked.

"He'll be fine," the physician dismissed. He looked at Merlin appreciatively. "The stitching was well done, I was hardly needed at all."

"Thanks," Merlin replied absently, making his way towards his bedroom.

"Merlin, what's wrong with you?" Gaius asked, concerned.

"Just tired, and I'd like to get some sleep before I start packing," Merlin said.

"Packing?" his guardian asked incredulously.

"Uther's sending Arthur out tomorrow to finish the bandits off," Merlin explained, looking dead.

"But you just got back!" Gaius complained.

"If you can convince Uther to wait a couple days, I'll happily clean out your leech tank for the next year," Merlin answered dully.

"I think I will talk to him; not even Arthur should..." Gaius was cut off by Merlin's closed door. The physician closed his mouth, worried.

O o O

Arthur entered the physician's chamber with a bang and a loud, "MERLIN!"

Gaius frowned at the prince and angrily gestured at both Wybert and Merlin's closed door. "Sire, please lower your voice."

Arthur grimaced. "I need to speak to Merlin, Gaius. Where has the lazy idiot gotten to now?" He glanced around the room, expecting to see his servant sulking in a corner.

"He's sleeping, Arthur, and I think you should let him," Gaius said firmly, but Arthur was already stalking towards Merlin's door.

"We leave in the morning, Gaius, he doesn't have time to sleep," Arthur said mercilessly, then he pounded on the door. "MERLIN!"

"Arthur! My patient is sleeping!" Gaius scolded.

Arthur looked apologetically in Sir Wybert's direction, who had moaned in his sleep.

"Fine then," he said stiffly, and shoved his way into Merlin's room before the physician could protest.

Merlin woke up with a sudden jolt as he landed on the floor, light from the window streaming into his eyes (hadn't he shut those curtains?).

"_Mer_lin," came Arthur's drawl.

_The prat shoved me out of bed!_ Merlin thought incredulously.

The warlock snarled as he pushed himself to his feet, about to release the upside-down spell he usually used on Arthur whenever the king disturbed him, then he froze. Arthur was looking at him with startled eyes, previously unaware that his manservant had the ability to look even remotely fearsome. And there he was, looking like an angry demon who he'd just poked in the eye.

Then Merlin seemed to droop. He sighed. "What is it, Arthur?" He sat back on his bed with an exhausted thump.

Arthur regained his composure and cleared his throat. "Why aren't you packing?" he asked.

Merlin glared at him. "You woke me up for _that_?" he asked incredulously.

Arthur shifted uncomfortably.

Merlin flopped back on his pillow, turned away from Arthur, and muttered, "I'll pack later. Now _go away_."

He felt Arthur's weight shift the mattress as he sat down next to Merlin.

"Actually..." the prince trailed off.

"Yes?" Merlin asked icily.

"I was wondering..." again, Arthur seemed to struggle with words.

"What?" Merlin snapped.

"You can use a sword," Arthur finally managed.

"Yes, Arthur," Merlin said tiredly, eyes closing. Was this what Arthur had woken him up for? To discuss his weapons skills? "You've been using me to practice on since the day I got here, remember?"

Arthur frowned. "But you can fight _well_. I mean, really well."

"Not that well," Merlin said stiffly, not opening his eyes. In truth, he wouldn't last long in any sword fight without magic.

Arthur looked at Merlin incredulously. "You're kidding, right?"

Merlin turned to stare up at Arthur.

Arthur screwed up his expression. "Merlin, you fought as well as some of my knights, and you weren't even on a horse," he said emphatically.

"Are you saying I'm a prodigy?" Merlin teased darkly, turning back to face the wall. That was what most people called Arthur.

"No!" Arthur quickly denied. The thought of Merlin being a weapons' prodigy... Arthur scowled. The problem was, with all the other skills his servant seemed to possess, good swordsmanship didn't seem all that strange.

"Are you sure you've had no other training?" Arthur asked. He wasn't sure what he was going to do if his servant answered no.

Merlin smiled slightly at the prince's nervous tone. "Some," Merlin finally admitted.

Arthur sighed in relief.

"We had to learn how defend our village from raiders," Merlin said, which was partially true.

Arthur frowned. "Isn't that your king's job?" he asked.

Merlin had to laugh. "Cenred really isn't the type to go riding out to the defense of one tiny, little village, sire," he told Arthur. "Besides, he probably wouldn't arrive there in time, anyways."

Arthur was silent as he considered this. Apparently his father's opinion of Cenred had some truth behind it – not that he ever doubted the fact, of course.

"So Arthur, what's your point?" Merlin asked, yawning.

Arthur looked down at his manservant.

"What?"

"You came in here to tell me that I'm not hopeless with a sword. What's your point?" Merlin repeated.

Merlin felt Arthur shift on the mattress.

"I don't have one, really," Arthur admitted.

Merlin groaned.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Arthur complained, not happy about his servant's less-than-enthusiastic reaction. "During practice you've been acting like you're completely incompetent!" If it had been Arthur, he would have shown off his skills from day one.

"I'm not that good," Merlin said honestly. "Whatever I did while fighting the bandits was a combination of luck and adrenaline."

Arthur snorted. "Don't give me that. I know an experienced fighter when I see one."

Merlin winced. He _was_ experienced. And he hated the fact. He'd much rather be someone who didn't need to know how to fight. All the deaths he'd caused... He breathed in and out slowly, trying to calm himself.

"Arthur, sometimes it's a good thing if your opponents underestimate you," Merlin finally said.

Arthur frowned. "Merlin, I'm not your opponent," he said uneasily.

"No?"

Arthur stiffened.

"You woke me up to talk about _swords_, Arthur," Merlin drawled. "I certainly don't feel like your ally at the moment."

Arthur relaxed.

"Seriously, though," Merlin continued, sounding tired. "I'd prefer to no be thought of as weapon."

Arthur rolled his eyes. He was worried about _that_? Typical. The man hated killing fluffy bunnies; it was probably a matter of nightmares to know that he could actually be good at it. "No one's calling you a weapon," he reassured. "I just wished you had told me before now."

"Right. Now you know. So leave," Merlin ordered, pointing at the door.

"Just as long as you're up in time to serve me at supper," Arthur said haughtily. Uther wanted a chance to dine with his son before he went off again.

"Fine."

"Good."

Merlin waited. "Arthur, you're not leaving," he noted irritably. He felt Arthur get off the bed.

"You don't have a headache do you?" Arthur asked hesitantly.

Merlin opened his eyes and twisted his head to look at the prince, who was staring back at him unflinchingly.

"... No," Merlin answered honestly. "I'm just tired."

Arthur left without another word.

Merlin used magic to pull the curtains closed, then rolled over and fell asleep almost immediately.

O o O

Four miserable days later, Merlin found himself being relentlessly prodded by Arthur to join the rest of the knights on their ride to victory.

"Come on, Merlin," the prince urged. "You can ride Reginald and I'll lend you a sword."

"Don't you have enough men?" Merlin asked coldly. There was no way he was going with them to the bandit's camp. He knew that some of the outlaws there were merely desperate idiots with no hope left in life. In _his _Camelot, the punishments dealt out to such people were much less cruel and much less _permanent_, with inclusions of a fair trial. Some of them deserved death, certainly, but others simply needed a smack and a sharp prod in another direction.

One bandit group they'd captured had been made up of slaves, whose families were held captive in case they ever lost their desire to meet the quota given to them by the camp's ruthless leader. Merlin had dealt with the man personally, freeing the families in the process. Seeing the state some of the children, neither he nor Arthur felt particularly regretful about sentencing his execution.

Arthur gave Merlin a look, pulling on his riding gloves. All of his other men were assembled, all disciplined enough to question the actions of their leader.

"You could still come," Arthur pointed out. "Besides, if you don't, you'll be here by yourself."

"A relief," Merlin answered.

Arthur frowned. "C'mon, Merlin... I could order you," he threatened.

Merlin narrowed his eyes. "I do not take the idea of killing people lightly, Arthur, even if they are criminals," he said.

Arthur sobered, his expression hardening. "Don't you dare accuse me of enjoying this," he said angrily, lowering his voice.

Merlin relented slightly. "I know you don't," he said quietly. "Just... don't ask me to go, alright?"

Prince Arthur stared at Merlin, then nodded once. He could respect that. Even if Merlin _could_ fight well, Arthur realized that it wasn't exactly in his nature or in his job description. The prince wondered briefly, before mounting his horse, how many times Merlin had been forced to kill people in order defend himself. The bandit attack certainly hadn't been the first time, Arthur decided. Even the hardest of men were usually badly shaken after their first kill. Merlin had moved on with the proficiency of a soldier.

"If someone comes by, hide," Arthur ordered from atop his horse. Merlin smiled sloppily as he looked up at him.

"With my luck I'll trip straight into them," Merlin said.

"I suppose you are still a clumsy idiot, even if you can fight," Arthur decided. It was strange how Merlin seemed to become a different person while fighting. The man usually found a way to stumble on air. (Arthur wasn't to know that a great deal of Merlin's balance could be attributed to magic.)

"At least I'm not a prat," Merlin retorted.

"You're so mucking out the stables," Arthur said.

"Good-_bye_, Arthur," Merlin drawled, waving the prince away.

As Merlin watched them ride away, he realized with some enthusiasm that he had nearly an entire day to himself, depending on how long it took them to round everyone up. He strained his neck as the last of the knights vanished out of his eyesight.

They were gone. Finally.

"Excellent," he said with a toothy grin.

Cleaning up the camp took less than ten minutes with magic. As long as none of the knights decided to randomly double back, Merlin was free of pressure. And as for their supper... meh, he could deal with that later.

Reveling in his new-found freedom, Merlin quickly ran to his pack and dumped out a pile of random-looking objects: small chains, chunks of different types of wood and metals, and various herbs he'd nicked from Gaius's stores. With his salary a mere sliver of what he'd received as court sorcerer, some of these items had been ridiculously hard to obtain.

He took in a deep breath. This part of his plan to undermine Uther's fight against magic was going to be the most tedious and arguably the most difficult (depending on how annoying negotiations with the druids ended up being).

The goal was to create non-individualized amulets that could be activated by even the lowest level of sorcerer. Not only would they have to maintain the illusion of whatever type of execution Uther would dictate, they would also have to enchant the executioners into believing that whatever they were physically dealing with was real (such as a severed head). Then, to top it off, Merlin was also going to have to include a doppelganger ability. There were going be cases where Uther ended up condemning non-magical individuals: people who couldn't use the amulets. As far as Merlin could tell, the best way to deal with that would be to disguise a sorcerer to look like the person – then _they_ could go though the execution process while the real convicts were smuggled out of Camelot.

Merlin rubbed his hands together in anticipation. He hadn't had a project this complicated since the time-travel spell (and he intended not to count that one). Even with his skills in magic, finishing the amulets in one day wasn't a likely prospect, nor did Merlin plan on it being. At least he could get the moulding done.

Satisfied that he had everything, including enough firewood, Merlin readied his magic and got to work.


	15. The Prince who finally noticed

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

A.N. This is more of an interim chapter. I wrote it in two hours. Hopefully neither of them are too out of character, which wouldn't be surprising considering all the cheesiness involved. I guess I'm making up for the lack of Merlin!whump. They have gotten to the point in their relationship where Arthur would be willing to defy his father to save Merlin, but without the poisoned chalice, its harder to show.

* * *

><p>"Merlin!" Gaius exclaimed as his ward stumbled into his chambers, his ragged pack slung haphazardly over his shoulders. No wounded knights were accompanying him, so he could only assume the bandits had been efficiently dealt with. "You're back!"<p>

Merlin gave his guardian a small smile, but the expression quickly faded back into a state of perpetual tiredness. "Until Arthur wants to go hunting," he grumbled.

Gaius frowned, shuffling over to get a closer look at the boy. Merlin dropped his pack on the ground, not caring that it was in the middle of the walkway. The amulets inside clinked together, nearly in their complete forms. When he looked up again, Gaius was standing in front of him, a concerned light flooding his eyes. Merlin's eyes were swimming in dark circles of sleeplessness and his cheeks were even more hallow than usual.

"Merlin, you look like death itself," the old man said lightly.

Merlin snorted. "To some people, that's exactly who I am," he intoned blandly, moving past Gaius and towards the table. There was a rather tempting loaf of bread sitting there, only half-eaten.

Gaius's forehead crinkled as he made his way to Merlin's side. "Merlin, you really don't look all that well," he said more firmly. "Have you been eating?"

"When I remember," the warlock dismissed, taking a bite out of the bread.

"Merlin!" Gaius exclaimed, affronted. "You need to be taking better care of yourself!"

Merlin stiffened and his head turned sharply. "How can I when I'm too busy taking care of everyone else?" he snapped. He stared at Gaius, breathing harder than he ought to have been.

Gaius was shocked into silence.

Merlin slumped slightly, then went back to eating his bread.

Gaius swallowed. "Merlin, what's happened?" he asked quietly, trying to sound comforting. He sincerely hoped Merlin wouldn't hole himself away.

"Nothing," Merlin replied in between bites. "Nothing unusual anyway."

"But something did happen," Gaius stated.

"Not really," Merlin said, staring at the wall in front of him as he continued to chew.

Gaius clenched his teeth, a bout of frustration (mixed with some anger) building. That boy had an enormous amount of responsibility on his shoulders, and Gaius was beginning to realize that Merlin rarely ever delegated any of it. Why couldn't he see that Gaius was very willing to take some of the burdens off of his shoulders? Even if he was an old man, he wasn't _entirely_ useless, Gauis thought with indignance.

"And yet you're exhausted and half-starved!" he burst out, his voice raising in volume with ever word. "You may value yourself so little, but I most certainly do not! I told your mother I would look after you, but look at what a poor job I seem to be doing!"

Merlin had frozen, the bread halfway up to his mouth. Then slowly, he lowered it, exhaling at the same time. When he looked up at the physician, his face was a picture of remorse. "Sorry," he said softly.

Gaius frowned. "'Sorry' doesn't change the fact that your health is suffering!" he snapped.

Merlin sighed. "I've just been working on some projects is all," he said. And when he said 'projects,' there was no doubt that they were magical in nature. "At night, mostly, when the others were asleep."

"Magic-induced headaches along with it?" Gaius asked severely, folding his arms.

"Unfortunately," Merlin said stiffly.

"Ones that make you forget to eat?" Gaius asked, eyes flashing.

"Ones that make me feel a little nauseous," Merlin admitted, looking at the table.

"While you were out _riding_? Looking for bandits?" Gaius asked, shaking his head. "I swear – you're very bright when you need to be but in this instance I'm going to agree with Arthur: You're an idiot." He swatted the back of Merlin's head.

Merlin growled playfully and took another bite out of his bread.

"Didn't Arthur notice you weren't eating?" Gaius asked after a moment, taking the time to sit across from his ward.

Merlin stiffened. Unknowingly, Gaius had just nailed a sore spot. "No," he finally said, sounding a little hoarse. "Too busy ordering me around."

Gaius sighed, knowing there wasn't much he could do about Arthur's arrogance. He'd thought the young prince had been improving – coming to ask about Merlin's headaches and all – but apparently Arthur was still the same as ever when he played for a crowd. No doubt he and his knights spent their evenings poking fun at the lanky servant.

Merlin stood up suddenly, his bench scraping out from its position. Very little of the bread loaf was left.

"I'm taking a nap," he announced. "Will you be around to wake me in an hour? I have to bring Arthur his dinner."

Gaius nodded quickly. Of course he'd wake Merlin up.

Merlin sent him a thin smile and left the room, shutting his bedroom door behind him with a soft click. Gaius sent Merlin's door a sympathetic look before standing up and getting back to his own work. Lady Percival was being crotchety again, demanding cures for nonexistent ailments.

On the other side of the door, Merlin sprawled over his hard bed, his eyes staring blankly at his cobweb-covered ceiling. Then slowly, and not as silently as he would like, Merlin began to cry, tears leaking out of his staring eyes, his breaths coming out in small gasps. Not wanting to make Gaius suspicious, Merlin hurled a silencing spell at the door, feeling the tears as they spilled into his ears.

To be perfectly honest, he had no idea why he was 'sobbing like a girl' as Arthur would put it. Fatigue was probably a likely reason, along with malnutrition, and the headache that had nearly worn off. Otherwise, there was no way he'd ever being crying over something as nonsensical as self-pity.

Prince Arthur was _not_ King Arthur. Merlin knew that. Of course he did. Not that he didn't forget it sometimes... almost letting something slip – like laughing too hard at Arthur's embarrassing moments. But nothing could have made Arthur's position more clear than Gaius's offhand question: "_Didn't Arthur notice you weren't eating?_" Of course Arthur hadn't, and Merlin hadn't really given it much thought until now. But now, alone in the dim, quiet interior of his room, he was realizing it to the fullest degree.

Arthur hadn't noticed.

His Arthur _always_ noticed when Merlin wasn't taking care of himself. When Merlin got on a project, sometimes he tended to forget minor details like meals and sleeping. On those occasions, the king could be more naggy and stubborn than Gwen and Gaius combined.

"Merlin, you idiot!" he'd shout loudly, usually so everyone in the corridor could hear. "Come down to the kitchens right now, or I'll fire you, throw you in the dungeons, and wait for you to escape so I can execute you and put you out of your misery."

Merlin would complain loudly and call him a prat, then threaten to turn him into a toad, before letting a very persistent Arthur to drag him out of his workshop and towards the food. Then he'd get a lecture (it was the same one every time) about how useless he'd be as dead, and how worried Arthur always became whenever Merlin got like this, and how he'd better _never_ do it again or else. Unfortunately for Arthur, the king could never come up with a good enough threat to make Merlin take him seriously. Once, Arthur had tried giving Merlin the silent treatment, but unsurprising, that had lasted for less than half of a day.

Merlin ran his hands through his hair, a bizarre smile covering his face as he continued to sob and laugh at the same time.

_Oh, Avalon_. He was homesick.

He missed Guinevere – _Queen_ Guinevere – who was just as firm as she was wise. She could silence a room-full of brawling knights just by glaring ay them, and was brave enough to direct a war in place of her absent husband.

He missed King Arthur's sincere, but hilariously awful attempts to cheer Merlin up. He missed having a friend who knew him so impeccably well that they could finish each other's sentences.

He missed the knights of the round table, all of whom were perfectly willing to go in with him on a prank if need be.

He missed being able to walk through the market and but magical items.

He missed the magical storytellers who would sit on the edge of alleyways and conjure pictures of fairylands (never very accurate), entertaining the generation of children who would never have to be scared of magic.

He missed having a workroom where he didn't have to hide in the near-darkness to complete his projects.

He missed Freya. He missed talking to one of the very few people in the world who could relate with him in terms of power, immortality, loss, and responsibility. Not even Arthur could do that. But in this time Freya was lost to him, even more so than Arthur. She didn't even know his name, and he only had a vague idea of where she might be.

Unaware of how much time he'd spent lost in the daydreams of his home, blinked himself back to reality and watched with arid wretchedness as a spider crawled up the wall.

The skin around his eyes was now swollen and red, glaring and obvious for all the world to see. _At least the tears have stopped_, he thought miserably. Maybe dull acceptance was finally settling in.

He sniffled and brought his sleeve up to his face to mop up the excess fluids.

_Stupid fatigue_, he decided, then rolled over to face the window.

Soon, he was fast asleep, dreaming of a home that he could only watch from a distance.

O o O

Almost exactly an hour later, a previously lounging Gaius banged on Merlin's door and yelled, "Merlin! Get up!"

Satisfied that the noise had woken his ward – it usually did – Gaius grabbed a flask and scurried out the door. He was already late in attending to Lady Percival, but her tantrums were worth facing if it meant unburdening Merlin. That boy had deserved a complete hour's rest.

O o O

Arthur waited very patiently for ten _whole_ minutes (of pacing) before storming out of his bedroom to search for his lazy, good-for-nothing manservant. He'd just come home from eight tiring days of riding and fighting, and Merlin expected him to _wait_ for his dinner? How forgetful could the man get?

All the idiot had to do the entire trip was set up bedrolls and gather firewood. Arthur snorted derisively as he decided that the royal treatment must have gotten to the servants head. Merlin was probably lounging somewhere, full stomach (Arthur's own stomach growled at the thought), talking and laughing with Morgana's maid. Guinevere. She was rather pretty – maybe something was going on between them? Arthur shook his head, as it really didn't matter to him, and mentally prepared the list of chores he was going to give the idiot as a punishment.

His thoughts were interrupted when he caught sight of the ever faithful Guinevere strolling towards him through the corridor. _ She's carrying a serving tray_, he noted jealously. Morgana would be getting dinner, but he wasn't. How was that even fair? Plus, now she had just ruined the picture of Merlin he'd had in his head. Maybe he was lounging by himself, Arthur decided, as the prince had never really seen Merlin tlak with anyone else _but_ Gwen.

As Gwen passed the prince, she was startled to hear him speak, and had to do a double-take before she realized he was talking to _her_. "Have you seen him anywhere, then?" Arthur was asking, and it took several blinks to process that he was talking about Merlin.

She curtsied as gracefully as she could with a tray and replied, "No, milord. I haven't seen him since before you left last week." Gwen tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice as she finished her sentence. Even though Merlin had only been around for a couple months, somehow he'd managed to worm into Camelot as a permanent entity. Plus, she missed talking to him.

"Hm," Arthur hummed, mostly to himself. He was frowning. He should probably check the kitchens. Maybe Merlin was simply delayed because he was fetching Arthur a proper meal for once. Arthur laughed at his own ridiculousness and decided he should check with Gaius first.

Gwen watched the prince walk away from her, chuckling at some thought she wasn't privy to. She allowed a hint of exasperation to line her face. No polite 'thank-you' from him – not even a nod! He'd just walked off! Typical. Gwen put her nose in the air and marched towards her mistress's chambers.

Arthur gave a couple knocks on the physician's door, announcing his presence as he peeked into Gaius's chambers. "Gaius?" he asked cautiously.

His stomach growled in response.

It was apparent that the physician was out and Arthur almost retreated, before he spotted something that made his eyes narrow. Merlin's door was closed. Arthur groaned in exasperation. Merlin was sleeping! Sleeping! While he, Prince Arthur, had been waiting _patiently_ for his well-earned meal. And Merlin was sleeping!

Arthur found himself bereft of mercy as he marched up to his unsuspecting manservant's door. He had a determined smile on his face. This smile he reserved for Merlin, and Merlin alone, because no one else needed a look that said, "You better run because you don't even want to know all the horrible things I plan on doing to you."

He didn't knock and simply barged into the room, Merlin's name at the tip of his tongue, to be roared for all of Camelot to hear. Then he caught sight of Merlin himself.

Oh, hell.

Arthur had to catch himself as he sucked in a quick breath. Merlin's sleeping form was curled into a ball, looking more vulnerable that Arthur had ever seen him, his thin blankets crinkled up around him. What disconcerted Arthur the most, however, was Merlin's face. He had the wounded puppy expression on – the one Arthur hated because it made him feel evil for saying no to it – only made ten times worse by the obvious tear stains streaking across his cheeks.

Arthur gulped, suddenly uncertain of how he should react.

Merlin, happy-go-lucky, confident, cocky Merlin, had cried himself to sleep.

He knew how his father would react. He'd probably dump Merlin out of bed then sack him for being such a useless imbecile. The expression on Merlin's face when he did so... Arthur found his thoughts recoiling at the idea and his eyes widened indignantly. Since when did he start caring so much about the man sleeping before him?

Obviously Arthur wasn't completely heartless when it came to the servant. Merlin was loyal, clever (not that he'd ever admit that one out loud), helpful when it came to politics, had some fighting ability (Arthur was still getting over that one), and was the first person other than his father to stand up to him in a very long time. Basically, Merlin had a refreshing personality. And Arthur liked having him around, enough to be concerned by the headaches he'd been getting. But this...

Arthur shifted, unsettled by the raw emotion that was roiling over him as he looked down on Merlin's tear-stained face.

What had happened to make Merlin so depressed? Arthur wondered briefly. Then he shook himself to get rid of his curiosity. If Merlin wanted to let him know, then he would tell him, Arthur told himself firmly.

A voice in the back of his head quietly asked what Arthur had done to deserve Merlin's confidence.

Not that he wanted it.

Quietly, Arthur backed out of the room and re-shut the door with a soft click. No, he wasn't letting Merlin sleep because he felt sorry for for the younger man. He just didn't want to have to deal with the awkward conversation that would come with waking him up. _ That's right_, Arthur thought firmly. _Plus, I'm being_ nice. _Merlin will never be able to call me unsympathetic ever again_.

Feeling more confident now that he'd gotten his feelings all sorted out, Arthur started back on the long walk to Morgana's chambers. Maybe she could get Guinevere to bring up a second meal...

O o O

Little alarm bells sounded in Merlin's head, interrupting his dream. He blinked awake blearily, feeling grumpy for having been woken up so suddenly, and let his eyes lazily drift towards the window.

That was a really nice sunset. He realized contentedly that he could even see some stars in the distance.

Merlin stared at the scene another second before the realization struck him like lightning. Arthur! He bolted upright, breathing hard. His eyes searched the dark corners of his room for his boots. It wasn't until his feet hit the floor that he realized that he'd never taken them off.

Gaius looked up from his book as Merlin hurled himself out of his room, feet pounding against the floors.

"Why didn't you _wake_ me? Has Arthur come by? Please don't tell me he's fired me, the prat! It's not my fault I... well it sort of is, but why didn't you wake me?"

Merlin stared at Gaius with pleading eyes.

Gaius frowned. "But I did wake you. I pounded on your door and called..." he trailed off with the sudden realization that Merlin hadn't heard him. Guilt filled his heart. "Oh dear, I'm sorry my dear boy. I didn't check to see if you actually woke up," he said miserably.

Merlin continued to stare.

Then he blinked and an expression of mild horror crossed his face as he whirled around to face his bedroom. The real problem became rather obvious as he did so. The silencing spell was still up. As sloppily as he'd put it up, it was a two-way silencing spell. Gaius hadn't been able to hear him crying, but he hadn't been able to hear Gaius's wake-up call.

He groaned, pulling at his bed-hair in annoyance.

Then he glanced back at Gaius, who was looking decidedly guilty. "I put up a silencing spell," Merlin said, not explaining himself, but not wanting his guardian to feel that he was at fault. "Forgot to take it down."

Gaius opened his mouth to lecture him on not being foolish, then closed it again when he realized Merlin was probably already doing that himself.

"Didn't Arthur come storming down here?" Merlin asked in confusion.

Gaius shrugged. "Not while I've been here."

Merlin frowned. Then Arthur had never come down. Merlin would most definitely be awake if he had. Still very confused, Merlin quickly left the room, hurrying down the hallways that were now partially lit by torches. Maybe Arthur had gotten another servant to bring him food. Or maybe, Merlin mused, he'd fallen asleep as well.

Either way, he wasn't going to be very happy when Merlin showed up.

"Merlin!" a familiar voice rang from down the corridor.

He turned and said distractedly, "Oh, hello, Gwen. I'd talk with you – it's been a while hasn't it? – but I'm in a bit of a hurry."

Gwen lifting her skirts slightly as she scrambled up a flight of stairs to reach him. She was smiling. "That's what I want to tell you. Arthur's in Morgana's room!"

Merlin raised his eyebrows. "Arthur is in _Morgana's_ room?" he asked, incredulous.

Gwen nodded excitedly. "He showed up randomly and wanted to have dinner with her," she said. "Morgana was pleased I think. She hasn't really spent much time with him lately. And even if they do fight a lot, they really care a lot about each other."

"So... Arthur isn't mad I was gone?" Merlin asked, brushing aside Gwen's gushing comments.

Gwen tilted her head. "Not really. Which is really lucky, if you think about it," she said after a moment's consideration.

"No kidding," Merlin mumbled in relief.

"He was looking for you earlier, you know," Gwen stated.

Merlin raised his eyebrows.

"I thought he was going down to ask Gaius, but I guess he decided it wasn't worth the effort," Gwen said, trying to make sense of Arthur's strange change in personality. She would have thought that the prince would be hunting Merlin down by now, dragging him by the ankles towards the place Arthur wanted him to be.

"So he didn't say anything at all?" Merlin asked disbelievingly.

"Nope," Gwen said.

Merlin slumped, even more confused than he'd been before.

"What were you doing?" Gwen asked curiously.

"Sleeping," Merlin answered.

"Tiring trip?" she asked sympathetically.

"You have no idea," Merlin sighed.

"You haven't been eating, have you?" she asked, eyes narrowing as she examining his gaunt frame.

Merlin wrinkled his nose. "First Gaius, now you," he complained.

"Merlin..." she warned. "I'm coming by later with something to eat," she said decidedly.

Merlin's eyes lit up. "Really?" he asked, sounding more eager than he'd intended.

"Absolutely," Gwen said with a firm nod.

"You're amazing!" he exclaimed, bouncing up an down.

"You can go," Gwen told him, noticing his agitated state, "I don't want you to get in more trouble than you're already in. Just remember to talk to me later."

"Count on it," Merlin promised with a smile.

Gwen smiled back, suddenly happier than she'd been in days.

The route to Morgana's room was shortened by the short bursts of sprinting he managed to complete when he thought no one was looking. No matter what Gwen said, no matter how friendly a mood Arthur was in, he figured that turning up sooner rather than later was a good idea.

When he arrived at Morgana's door, he nearly burst into the room like he did with Arthur, then remembered that this was a _girl_'s room. So he stopped himself, and knocked three times.

"Come in," came Morgana's voice.

He stiffened, and couldn't believe he'd overlooked the fact that now he'd have to face Morgana. Besides delivering sleeping potions, he'd gotten fairly good at avoiding her. No matter how innocent and caring she was at this stage in her life, she still _looked_ like Morgan le Fay (albeit with no wrinkles). His magic still itched to zap her whenever she was within fifty feet of him.

Sighing slightly, Merlin opened the door and stepped into the room.

Arthur and Morgana were no longer sitting at the table, where some of the dishes from supper still remained. Instead, they had migrated to the chairs in front of her fireplace. Arthur was chuckling at something she'd said, and she had a wry grin on her face. Merlin watched it with interest; he'd forgotten what that expression looked like.

Arthur and Morgana looked up from the fire. Morgana's eyes lit with vague curiosity, but an unreadable expression crossed Arthur's face before he schooled it into one of amusement.

"Ah," the prince said, smiling sideways. "I was wondering when you'd turn up."

"Erm, here I am!" Merlin exclaimed innocently, waving his hand.

"I hope you're well-rested, Merlin, because I'm really in the mood for a bath," Arthur said cockily.

Merlin groaned theatrically, but his mind was reeling with new information.

"Well? Go on, then!" Arthur shooed. "Fetch me when it's ready!"

Merlin stuck out his tongue and walked out of the room, the last thing he heard being Morgana sending a teasing jibe at her half-brother.

Merlin stalked down the hallway towards Arthur's room. What had Arthur meant by 'well-rested'? Had he known Merlin had been sleeping? Had he seen him sleep? Or had he been guessing?

What puzzled him most, was Arthur's nonchalant mood towards the whole matter. What was wrong with him? He _always_ gave Merlin a hard time for being late with meals. Had eating with Morgana really cheered him up that much? Merlin doubted it.

Puzzled, but not unhappy, Merlin continued to walk towards his chore.

O o O

"Thanks for letting me sleep," Merlin said casually, handing Arthur a towel as the prince stepped out of his bath.

Arthur froze as he reached his hand out for the towel, the sound of dripping water suddenly amplified by the following silence.

He swallowed. "It was obvious you weren't going to be any use in that state," he tried to say easily, grabbing the towel out of Merlin's outstretched hands.

He waited for Merlin's reply, but the servant was silent. Arthur shuffled nervously, covering up the movement by drying out his hair.

He was only brave enough to look up when Merlin handed him his pants. When their eyes met, Merlin gave him a lopsided smile before whirling around to deal with Arthur's abandoned towel. So Merlin knew that Arthur knew. Or at least that Arthur knew that he'd been crying.

The situation was less intimidating than Arthur thought it would be. For some reason, this made him feel more confident. _Maybe I'll be able to stand up to Merlin more often_. He thought it even before he realized what he was thinking. Slightly horrified at himself, he scolded his brain for thinking something that was idiotic enough to be on Merlin's level.

Merlin, on the other hand, was feeling giddy. Maybe that nap had done him more good than he'd thought. Or maybe it was because Arthur had noticed.


	16. Plans Move Forward

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

A/N: Hey! Been a while, huh, guys? Hehe... I had more trouble with this chapter than I would've liked - hopefully you don't find it too rushed. But I managed to slip Morgana in there, so that's something.

* * *

><p>"It's been a while, young warlock," the Great Dragon intoned, settling onto his usual rock platform.<p>

"I've been busy," Merlin replied tautly, not really wanting to explain his homesickness.

"I see you've finally managed to attach your spell to Arthur," Kilgharrah noted.

Merlin sighed. "Yes, I put him to sleep then spent half the night attaching my modified teleportation spell to his dormant magic threads. Even though he can't actually do magic, he's highly conducive for..." Merlin trailed off and he stared at the dragon. The light orbs he'd been in the process of conjuring reacted by buzzing.

"How do you even _know_ that?" the warlock asked incredulously.

Kilgharrah looked at him with an unamused expression.

Merlin winced. Right. The dragon was in a continuous state of darkness and imprisonment. What else was he supposed to do but watch the flow of magic and destiny around him?

"Then I suppose you know that I fulfilled your request?" Merlin asked.

Kilgharrah's eyes gleamed. "Yes, I can _smell_ him," he said, giving Merlin a toothy smile.

"Well I'm not giving you the deer until _after_ I've left," Merlin said firmly, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "Dragons are messy eaters."

Kilgharrah grumbled, and settled his head on his forepaws. "I would prefer it if I could do the hunting myself..." he suggested slyly.

Merlin frowned. "Not until I find Balinor," he said.

Kilgharrah narrowed his eyes and growled. Some of the rocks underneath him crumbled.

"I am free where you are from," the dragon reminded indignantly.

"You murdered more than two hundred people the day I released you," Merlin growled back. "I will not, I repeat _not_, let that happen again."

"I give you my word that I will not harm the citizens of Camelot," the Dragon said calmly, raising his head.

Merlin looked at the stalactite-covered ceiling and sighed. He really did wish he could. In the future, during the time when his list allies were short, Kilgharrah would become one of his greatest sources of comfort, and he had to admit, one of his greatest friends. Seeing the dragon in his dank prison, scales graying and the deaths of his kin still fresh in his mind, made Merlin's heart ache. Still, in this state, there was no way he could trust the dragon, no matter how much he wanted to.

"I'm sorry Kilgharrah," Merlin said sincerely, looking the dragon in the eye, "but I know you far too well to take you for your word – not at this time."

The dragon growled menacingly.

Merlin imagined the dragon probably would've thrown flames at him if he hadn't known that Merlin could block them in his sleep.

"You are no kin of mine, if you cannot grant me this one thing," the dragon accused, eyes blazing.

Merlin stared back defiantly, but with a deep sadness. "Old friend, you know in your heart that you have too long considered the many revenges you could take against Uther. It has plagued your mind for a score of years and is not something that will leave simply because of your promise. I _cannot_ trust you as I do in my world."

"Then leave, young warlock. My caves are not welcome to you this night," Kilgharrah said. Then he turned and spread his wings.

Merlin watched regretfully as the dragon launched himself off the rocks and into the small amount of space that allowed for flying.

"Do you still want the deer?" he asked, subdued.

Kilgharrah didn't answer. Merlin frowned. He knew the insolent dragon could hear him.

"I can bring him next time instead," he offered softly.

"I think that would be best," came the guttural reply.

Merlin sighed.

He put out his wizard's lights, leaving the cave a pit of milky blackness. Despite Kilgharrah's warning, Merlin stood there for a while. Without the moon, the night skies sent little light into the emptiness.

It was more peaceful than he'd thought it would be.

O o O

Merlin was much happier after eight hours of sleep and getting to deal with an excited (rather than his grumpy counterpart) Arthur, who was participating in a small jousting tournament. The next night wasn't quite as restful, but he was productive, and now that Gaius had reluctantly granted him a free afternoon, visiting the druids was a sure deal.

"Alright! Time to stop moping!" Merlin ordered cheerfully, strolling into the Camelot's underground cavern. He spread out his wizard's lights with a flourish, sending the entire cave into a state of daylight. "Kilgharrah!"

He heard the dragon growl.

"C'mon," he whined.

Nothing.

"I won't be long!" he promised. After a moment he said wryly, "I brought the deer, too!"

Merlin was wearing a satisfied grin when Kilgharrah dropped in front of him, landing with a loud thump.

"Very well, young warlock," the dragon said irritably. "What is it that you want from me?"

"Since you didn't let me meditate in here last time, I had to do it in my room," Merlin complained. "It's really hot and stuffy in there! And Gaius _snored_ last night!"

The dragon couldn't help but smirk slightly.

"So it took longer for me to find Iseldir this time – they moved camp apparently," Merlin said. Then he got right to the point. "I also noticed something else; what's that odd magic to the southeast?"

Kilgharrah raised his eyebrows.

"It's not normal!" Merlin said. "And it's definitely not there in the future... so what changed?"

"What odd magic?" Kilgharrah interrupted before Merlin could continue his rant.

Merlin crinkled his nose. "You know, the stuff that comes out in thick spirals instead of in web formation. It's almost like a _leak_, but that doesn't sound right..."

"That would be the magic of Avalon," Kilgharrah said, sounding bored.

"Avalon? What? Really?" Merlin asked, trying to remember the magic's strange pattern. "It doesn't look like that in my world. It's more... calm. It stays where it's supposed to."

The dragon perked up, interested. "What did you do?" he inquired. "Avalon's magic is intensely powerful; keeping it organized would be a task of no small magic."

Merlin snorted in amusement. Why had Kilgharrah assumed that _he_ had done something?

"Nothing," he replied, deciding upon something instantly. "It must have been Freya."

"Freya?"

"A druid girl who was touched by a fairy as a toddler," Merlin explained with a small smile. That made him wonder again... where was she now? He'd thought briefly about looking for her before, but with so many other things to think about, he'd put it in the far reaches of his mind. Not to mention the awkwardness of knowing everything about her, but having her be completely clueless about him. "She was nearly killed, but I brought her to Avalon, and now she's its gatekeeper."

"A gatekeeper to Avalon," the dragon said, a faraway look in his eyes.

"I know," Merlin acknowledged Kilgharrah's amazement with a grin. "I was rather ecstatic when I found out. I thought I'd lost her forever."

Kilgharrah examined the young warlock, who was looking more satisfied with himself than the dragon had ever seen him. "Did you choose this female woman as your mate, Merlin?" he inquired with a touch of longing, remembering his own, dear Moira.

"As my mate..." Merlin finally mumbled, avoiding a direct answer.

The boy had turned a brilliant red.

Kilgharrah took that to be a firm yes. Changing color was one of the stranger abilities humans had. It didn't even camouflage them. Although, he admitted it helped with communication.

"I see," the dragon replied, not really wanting to know the details.

Merlin's cheeks were still pink when he sat cross-legged on the floor.

"I'm going to go now," he said.

"The deer, Merlin," Kilgharrah reminded.

Merlin scowled slightly. "Alright, alright. Promise me you won't play with your food. Poor thing trusts me you know," he said. "I feel kind of guilty."

Kilgharrah snorted. "Even a deer knows the order of things, young warlock," he said mildly.

"I still feel guilty," Merlin said firmly. But still, he reached out with his mind and prodded the deer, who had been obediently wandering the dungeons previously, unimpressed by the lack of greens. Kilgharrah's muscles rippled in anticipation. After living primarily on magic for the last couple decades (and the few stray birds who foolishly wandered in), the dragon was very anxious for a real kill.

"I hope you've hid your scent," Merlin sniffed, "otherwise he won't come down."

Kilgharrah looked offended. "It has not been that long since I've been outside," he said stiffly, sensing as the young stag skipped even closer to his doom.

"Remember what I told you," Merlin said, shaking his finger. "No playing."

"Just leave, Merlin," the dragon drawled, sighing in exasperation.

"Give me a moment," Merlin snapped lightly. Fifteen seconds of concentration later, and Merlin blinked out of the cave.

O o O

Ludmila was hanging out her laundry when the strange young man popped in front of her, scaring her half to death. She was later very embarrassed about it all, but she screamed and threw a wet undergarment in his face.

At the surprise of being suddenly blinded by something wet and heavy, Merlin lost his balance and toppled to forest floor, nearly crushing the amulets in his pocket.

"Jonas! Jonas!" a panicked female voice shouted. "Someone's just teleported inside the wards!"

"Was I not supposed to?" Merlin asked groggily, squinting at what appeared to be... Merlin blinked and quickly held the offending garment farther away from his face.

"Jonas!" the woman called again, backing away from Merlin. He didn't _look_ all that threatening, especially not on his back like that, delicately holding out a pair of women's undergarments at arms' length, but one could never be too careful.

"Are these yours?" Merlin asked, sounding a bit unnerved. He was familiar with doing men's laundry –_ lots_ of men's laundry – but a woman's...

Before Ludmila could respond, or at least back up further, her husband came belting through the trees.

"Ludmila? What's going on?" he asked frantically, looking around with wide eyes. His scratchy, green robes swirled around him as he tried to grasp the situation. Several other druids appeared from behind trees and boulders.

Merlin groaned as he pushed himself into a sitting position. "Hello," he announced himself, smiling weakly.

Jonas grabbed his wife's shoulders and moved her behind him.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"I don't mean you any harm," Merlin reassured, carefully reaching over to place the wet undergarment into the proper tub along with its counterparts.

"Then what have you come for?" Jonas asked. The other druids around him stared at Merlin for an answer.

"I need to talk with Iseldir," Merlin said.

Jonas hesitated. "My wife says you teleported through the wards," he said, looking at Merlin with a mild sense of disbelief.

Merlin brushed a leaf out of his hair. "True," he said, looking up at them.

Jonas blinked at his straightforward answer. He'd at least been expecting some form of gloating, or at least surprise (it could have been an accident). But no, the skinny young man had sat there with an innocent expression and had proclaimed that, yes, he had just done the impossible.

A sudden commotion from the back of the onlookers kept Jonas blurting out a statement of outright denial.

Jonas and his wife turned around to see their clan leader make his way to the front of the group, a curious expression on his face.

Merlin caught Iseldir's gaze and smiled widely. "Just the person I wanted to see!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

"My Lord Emrys," Iseldir said with a slight bow, looking slightly taken aback – an expression that Merlin had very rarely ever seen him wear.

Every head turned to stare a the gawky young man.

"Iseldir," Merlin acknowledged, nodding his head.

"Emyrs, we were not expecting you," Iseldir said lightly.

"No, you wouldn't have," Merlin said.

Iseldir frowned. "I wasn't aware that you knew of us," he said.

Merlin smiled slightly. It had taken him a long time to accustom himself to the druids' apparent stoicism. It had taken him even longer to catch Iseldir off guard, and he'd had to burn down half the forest to do so. But eventually he had learned that behind their riddles, forest-color cloaks, and eerily blank faces, druids were just as human as he was – and, it could be argued, even _more_ human than Merlin was.

So while he might have not picked up on it as a young man, Merlin was twice as old now and considerably more experienced.

Iseldir was nervous.

Merlin's grin widened. "Oh, I didn't hear about you until I came to Camelot," he said honestly. "I mean... I knew about the druids, just not _you_."

Iseldir gave him a suspicious glance.

Merlin fingered his neckerchief, a habit he'd taken to when he was thinking about something. It was a shame his court uniform didn't include one. "Did you know that you live only about seven miles away from my old home? A little village called Ealdor?" Merlin asked conversationally.

"I have heard of it." Iseldir's face showed no emotion, but Merlin knew very well that the clan leader has always been aware of how close they were living to Merlin's home. There was no way they would have let their prophesied deliverer grow up unprotected.

Merlin glanced at the reverenced people circling around him. Somewhere along their short conversation, over half the camp had showed up, including the other druids who were able to recognize him as Emrys.

"Why are you here?" Iseldir asked, straightforward as usual.

Merlin lifted his head and gave a wry smile. "I'm glad you asked," he said, reaching into his bulging pockets.

O o O

"Arthur's looking for you," Gaius said, without glancing up from his medical book.

Merlin grimaced. He hadn't intended for his visit to last longer than the afternoon, but now it was clear past sunset.

"How upset is he?" Merlin asked, trying to reorient himself. No matter how useful it was, long-distance teleportation would always be one of Merlin's least-favorite spells.

Gaius finally looked up as he cocked an eyebrow.

"The usual, huh?" Merlin interpreted with a sigh. He supposed it could have been worse.

"At least Arthur is familiar with the kitchen now," Gaius said dryly. "I think he even knows his cook's name."

Merlin grinned. "See? There's a bright side to everything."

Gaius snorted.

"How did your meeting go?"

Merlin fell back into a chair. "They were a bit surprised, to say the least," he related. Gaius mumbled something that sounded rather sympathetic. Merlin ignored him. "But I did get five volunteers."

"Any who are willing to stay in Camelot?" Gaius asked.

"Two," Merlin said. "And that's all we need."

Gaius sighed. "When are they coming?" he asked.

"In a week," Merlin answered promptly.

Gaius tried not to blanch. "Merlin, finding accommodations for people within such a short amount of time..."

"I've got it sorted," Merlin reassured him, waving his hand dismissively.

Gaius sighed in relief, glad that he wasn't going to have to involve himself, though a corner of his mind was slightly nervous about what Merlin was planning. Maybe he should ask. A picture of Merlin's emphatic expression whenever he was in 'scheming' mode popped into the old man's head.

"And the other druid camps?" Gaius asked pointedly, deciding he didn't want to know.

"Iseldir keeps in regular contact with two others," Merlin said. "And Baron Reynard already has a network set up with another camp."

Gaius had come to expect the unexpected whenever Merlin was concerned. If Merlin told him that the sky was actually orange and that it had been enchanted blue, Gaius doubted he'd even blink. The fact that one of Uther's favorite noblemen was in direct conflict of the law (to the point where his wife and half his children had magic) hardly phased him at all. 'Merlin-Immunity' Gaius had decided to label his new found stoicism. And it wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

Too much shock wasn't good for the heart after all.

"Anything else I should be aware of?" Gaius asked.

"They make surprisingly good soup," Merlin said with a grin, patting his full stomach.

"Get the recipe, won't you?"

"Already did."

"Good."

Merlin watched as Gaius crinkled dried herbs into a boiling cup.

"I'm also organizing their midsummer's eve celebration," Merlin announced after a moment.

Gaius paused. "And how do you expect to have time for something like that?" he asked critically.

"I'll make time," Merlin reassured. For once, this was something he was actually excited about. If possible, he was going to find a way to trick Arthur into going, maybe under the guise of 'spying for the kingdom's safety.'

Gaius sniffed, seriously doubting Merlin was going to last another month without getting fired.

As if on cue, the door to his chambers swung open with a bang. "Gaius, has that...?" Arthur trailed off as he caught sight of his truant of a servant.

"MERLIN!"

Merlin sighed and lazily hoisted himself to his feet. "Yes, sire?" he asked innocently.

O o O

Arthur and Merlin were both in a silent agreement to never speak of the "Merlin cried himself to sleep" incident. Ever. So unfortunately, things went right back to normal... or worse. Merlin was still grumpy from spending the night mucking out the stables, even if he had deserved it.

_Clang!_

_ Clonk!_

_ Clang!_

"OW!"

Arthur backed away from Merlin's downed form. "C'mon, _Mer_lin. Widen your stance. It shouldn't be that easy to knock you off balance," he lectured. "Get up."

"Why should I?" Merlin asked obstinately. He was breathing hard, drops of sweat dripping from his hair.

Stupid warm weather.

Arthur tapped the tip of his sword on Merlin's chest. "It's either this or the stocks," he warned.

Merlin groaned and pushed himself to his feet. He felt like he was about to topple over (in a permanent way).

Merlin used to consider Arthur's _old_ exercise regime relentless; now it was quite clear that Arthur had been going insanely easy on him. Every time Merlin was pummeled, he was forced to grit his teeth and restrain himself from literally exploding. Magic seemed to be pressing against his head – and quite honestly, it hadn't been this bad since his first pummeling lesson since he'd arrived in past Camelot.

Not for the first time, Merlin wished he'd never revealed his decent battle abilities to the young prince.

"Get into position, Merlin," Arthur ordered.

Merlin complied, bending his knees and watching Arthur with a steady gaze. The prince's nose looked a little sunburned, Merlin noticed. What would that make _his_ nose?

Satisfied that his manservant was being serious about this, Arthur attacked.

Merlin lasted ten seconds. Then he tripped.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" Arthur complained, spearing the ground with his sword in his frustration.

"I thought I was doing fairly well," Merlin countered indignantly. He couldn't very well slow time without his eyes giving him away, now could he? Not with Arthur only two feet away and concentrating on him like that. Not to mention he might overdo it and break Arthur's sword. Without magic, he was literally doing the very best he could.

Arthur snorted. "Merlin, if you had fought this way two weeks ago, you would have been killed," he retorted, gesturing for Merlin to get back into fighting stance. "Now shape up!"

"I told you: it was adrenaline and self-preservation," Merlin said, unwilling to get back into any sort of stance until he could convince Arthur of this fact.

"Merlin, you've made it clear that you have absolutely no sense of self-preservation whatsoever," Arthur pointed out. "Remember the cliff? I had to save your sorry backside because you, like the idiot you are, had to lean over it to reach for _some herbs_."

Merlin opened his mouth to retort – he'd only fallen over that cliff _one time_ – but a familiar presence of magic crept into his senses, and he froze.

"Why _Arthur_, fancy seeing you here!" a mocking voice came from the landscape above him.

Arthur and Merlin turned to see Morgana. She had dawned her usual fighting gear: chainmail, shield, sword, and all. Gwen was trailing close behind her, dressed to be Morgana's sparring partner. She brightened when she met Merlin's gaze, and quickly scurried over to his side, giving him a winning grin. Merlin barely managed to give her a tired smile back.

"What do you want?" Arthur asked drearily.

"Practice," Morgana said, drawing her sword. "But I don't suppose you'd understand, seeing that you get a whole line of goons willing to fight you every day."

"From what I've seen, you've never had any trouble persuading men to spar with you," Arthur pointed out.

Morgana smirked. "Felt like giving them a break today," she said mercilessly.

Arthur scowled. "Can't you do it somewhere else?" he asked, annoyed.

"No. We want to spar with Merlin," Morgana said firmly.

Both Merlin and Arthur made a face.

"You want to spar with _Merlin_?" Arthur repeated, sounding incredulous. Merlin was frantically thinking of an escape route. It was bad enough fighting Arthur in these conditions, but if he was paired off against _Morgana_... he gulped. Towers might start collapsing.

Morgana sniffed indignantly. "You were telling me how surprised you were to figure out that Merlin can actually fight, so we wanted to see for ourselves."

"I'm not that good," Merlin complained.

"That's because you aren't cooperating," Arthur countered.

Merlin scowled. "I'm doing the best I can," he protested, fingers curling around the hilt of his sword.

"A week ago you took out three bandits at a time. I saw you," Arthur said matter-of-factly. "From what I've seen today, you couldn't take out three _bunny-rabbits_."

"Maybe the heat is getting to me," Merlin threw out resentfully, looking up at the sun.

"You did it in the _pouring rain_," Arthur parried.

"Heat is different than rain," Merlin argued, folding his arms stubbornly.

"It's an extreme weather condition," Arthur blew off. "It's the same thing."

"Hardly," Merlin snorted.

Morgana and Gwen's eyes moved back and forth between the two boys, their amusement growing with each assertion. Their obstinate conversation was so entirely backward that the girls could hardly believe it. Prince Arthur, the egotistical, self-named "killing machine," was stubbornly insistent that his _manservant _was one of the most brilliant fighters he'd ever seen (besides himself, of course). Merlin, on the other hand, seemed firmly adamant about the opposite, and _he_ was usually the one that went out of his way to break the barriers between social classes.

For all Gwen knew, this was part of Merlin's plan: use reverse psychology to make Arthur admit that his servant could actually be good at something. The raven-haired boy was certainly sneaky enough to try something like that.

Plus... it was working.

"You're holding back!" Arthur insisted, his face now red from more than just the heat. "I don't know why but you are."

"I'm not either," Merlin said stiffly. He looked a bit like a cornered badger.

"I saw you!" Arthur argued. "There's no way someone with your skill level could be so... so..."

"So what?" Merling demanded.

"So _clumsy_!" Arthur finally released, gesturing up and down Merlin's lanky frame.

"And yet here I am," Merlin said with an eye-roll. "Alive in spite of it all."

"Ha! So you admit that you _do_ have talent," Arthur noted, narrowing his eyes. Merlin gave him a long-suffering look.

"Only under pressure," the servant sniffed, fingering his neckerchief.

Arthur looked at him disbelievingly. Merlin stared back at him stubbornly. Then Arthur's facial expression changed to one that Kilgharrah usually wore before he was about to roast someone.

"Fine," the prince said, swinging his sword. "You're telling me that you work better under pressure?"

Merlin wasn't sure which response would get him into the least amount of trouble so he ended up saying nothing.

Arthur's smiled evilly. "Well, then. How about we raise the stakes?"

Morgana and Gwen looked at Arthur with curious eyes.

Merlin glared at the prince, wondering if there was a subtle way to turn Arthur's hair green without making it seem like sorcery.

Arthur ignored his death stare and went on jauntily, looking rather pleased with himself, "If you can last thirty seconds against me... Don't give me that look, Merlin; that's only half of what my knights have to do," Arthur scolded. Merlin scowled. "As I was saying, if you can last thirty seconds, I won't ask you to clean out the stables for... two weeks."

"One month," Merlin countered quickly. Gwen smiled knowingly. The stables was Merlin's least-favorite chore.

Arthur looked amused. "Fine. One _whole_ month," he agreed. Merlin's scowl only deepened. Arthur obviously didn't believe his manservant was going to be able to defeat him. Unfortunately, he was probably right.

"But," Arthur said ominously, his smirk looking remarkably similar to Morgana's, "if you _don't_ last, then I'll just have to inform Master Gilroy that you'll be part of the dining hall's clean-up crew."

Gwen winced in sympathy. Merlin's heart sank. If he failed, that meant all of his normal free time was going to be spent on servant duties instead of what he really needed to do: magical rescue program extraordinaire.

"For how long?" he asked, weary.

"Like you said, Merlin," Arthur grinned, "one month."

Merlin sighed. It looked like he was going to have to find some way to cheat. "What if I say no and don't fight?" he asked, not feeling optimistic.

Arthur raised his eyebrows mockingly. "Then it's a forfeit and I win automatically," the prince said smugly.

Merlin swore inwardly, but he had to smile when he caught sight of Gwen's obvious disapproval.

"Can we at least get a drink first?" Merlin asked, very aware of the sun's continual rays burning into his flesh.

Even Arthur looked tempted. The prince licked his parched lips. "Don't be a girl, Merlin," he finally said, trying not to look wistful.

Merlin scowled. "What's girly about not wanting to die of dehydration?" he complained. Plus, he could really use a break, if only to calm his magic down.

Arthur wiped some of the sweat from his forehead. "This is nothing. Besides, as a soldier, you'll have to get used to uncomfortable situations," he recited.

Merlin smiled sadly. "Arthur, I'm not a soldier," he reminded in a quiet voice.

"But there may be a time when you'll have to be, whether you like it or not," Arthur said firmly, ignoring Merlin's soft tones.

Merlin blew out a puff of air. "Prat!" he grumbled, leaning against his sword like a walking stick.

"I swear you're going in the stocks later," Arthur threatened, jabbing his own sword in Merlin's direction.

"Arthur, I think you should both get a drink," Morgana finally interrupted. She half-wanted to force Arthur to cancel the duel, and not be cruel to the poor, sunburned boy (who was obviously suffering), but her curiosity in Merlin's newly discovered skill held her back. The very least she could do was make sure her dear foster brother didn't kill him off with heat stroke.

Arthur relented very quickly.

"Merlin, go fetch some water," he ordered.

Merlin grumbled loudly, but he didn't protest; his tongue was too parched and his head was pounding too much. Gwen almost immediately volunteered to go with him.

"I'll help too," Morgana said, stepping after them.

Gwen turned around and quickly countered with a, "No, no, no, milady. We'll be fine. Really. Just fine."

Merlin cocked his eyebrow and Morgana gave her maid a tiny smirk. Gwen blushed slightly. Arthur was completely oblivious, trying to find a comfortable spot on the grass.

"If you're sure..." Morgana teased.

Gwen bit her lip and nodded curtly. As they turned to leave, Gwen gave her mistress a grateful smile.

Morgana watched her maid hurry to catch up to Merlin's long strides before turning back to her foster brother and remarking, "Gwen really likes Merlin, you know. I hope he'll take notice of it soon enough."

Arthur cracked his neck, then gave Morgana and incredulous look. "How could anyone like _Merlin_?" he scoffed.

Morgana scowled. "Is it really that hard to imagine?" she asked, defensive in Gwen's place. Gwen was a sweet girl and had a good head on her shoulders. She wouldn't like anyone who wasn't worthy of her feelings.

To her indignation, Arthur began to laugh.

"Good lot you know," he said, continuing to chuckle. "Have you ever actually talked to Merlin?"

"A few times," Morgana defended, although to be perfectly honest, it was only ever in polite and passing conversation.

"The man's a complete _nightmare_" Arthur said emphatically.

"He is not!" Morgana protested.

"You just said you've only talked a few times," Arthur said smugly. "Believe me, if you had, you'd know what I mean: Loud, obnoxious, a complete know-it-all, always late..."

"Maybe he's only annoying around you," she interrupted stiffly.

Arthur opened his mouth to protest, then he shut it again.

"I wouldn't put it past him," the disgruntled prince finally mumbled.

Morgana smiled wryly.

"Do you know," Arthur began, "that once I found Merlin pouring over a pile of books in the middle of my bedroom floor, surrounded by rags and water buckets?"

Morgana raised her eyebrows.

"When I told him to get back to work, he actually _scolded_ me," Arthur related, disbelief coloring his tone, "and told me that I would have to wait a few minutes because he was 'at a good part,'" he quoted.

"Is that why he ended up in the stocks for an entire day?" Morgana asked curiously, remembering the incident that Gwen had been slightly upset over.

Arthur snorted. "No, that was for skidding into the dining hall at breakfast and dumping the water into Father's lap."

Morgana grinned.

"Father wanted him flogged, but I managed to... Whoa," Arthur blinked as the sun was suddenly blocked by a mass of clouds.

Both he and Morgana tilted their heads to stare up at the sky.

"It was completely clear just five minutes ago!" Arthur protested, sounding incredulous.

"Do you think it's another thunderstorm?" Morgana asked, the hairs on her neck tingling.

"Probably," Arthur grumbled. Now Merlin had an excuse to back out of their duel.

Morgana stared at the boiling clouds with apprehension. It was a new development, but thunderstorms made her feel as though something inside her was trying to claw its way out, like she was going to explode with energy.

The first drop of rain brought a bit of relief to Arthur's parched skin. Then it began to pour down in buckets and he wished miserably that Merlin were there to take off his armor.


	17. Humor and Magic are Tested

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

A/N: It'll be interesting to see how Series 5 changes my perception of the characters when their older. And on an unrelated note, I kind of took an unexpected dive into this chapter. I'm to tired to rewrite it, so it stays as it is.

* * *

><p>As soon as Merlin stepped through Camelot's small side entrance, he knew something was more wrong with his magic than he'd originally thought.<p>

"Gwen," he said hoarsely, interrupting her happy chatter. He stopped to cling onto the wall.

Guinevere glanced back at her friend, who had somehow ended up behind her.

"Merlin!" she exclaimed, noticing that he had doubled over and was now heaving, having just thrown up what little lunch he'd managed to sneak from Arthur's tray.

Merlin's eyes widened in fear when he realized Gwen was hurrying towards him. "Stay away!" he croaked loudly, holding up a hand, palm outward.

"But..." Gwen said in a pained voice, reluctant to obey Merlin's command.

"Stay away," Merlin ordered as firmly as he could. "Aurgh!"

Gwen jumped as Merlin redoubled over, in obvious agony. "Merlin!" she cried, running forward to comfort him.

Then the world exploded.

Lifting his face to the sky, Merlin let out a silent scream as the magical energies of the entire city penetrated his body. Overwhelmed, every cell automatically turned against the sudden onslaught and rechanneled the magic back into the air. Merlin found himself unable to control such a vast amount as the force of the rejection created a shockwave, knocking Gwen to the cobblestones with a sharp crack.

After the initial blast, Merlin grasped what little control he could and barely managed to filter the eruption of magic through his scream and into the sky, rather than the fragile masonry that surrounded them. The excited air above them began to boil, and dark clouds cackling with electricity formed around the capital in a rolling and steady rhythm.

Merlin was mentally panicking. He was still releasing energy, with no evidence of letting up, and he was close to a major population center. Whatever was causing all of the surrounding magics to converge on him, it was going to end up destroying the entire city – leveling it flat.

So he did the most logical thing he could think of in five seconds: he fixed on the source of the problem and teleported.

Gwen was in a daze – partially due the head injury and partially because her mind was still attempting to wrap itself around the situation. One second she'd been running towards Merlin, the next, she'd been flung backwards ten feet, and the next, the world had _shifted_. And Merlin was still screaming – verbally this time.

Clammy air and cobwebs swirled around them.

Gwen tensed.

They weren't in Camelot.

Not. In. Camelot.

Guinevere tried not to hyperventilate as she focused on the gloomy scenery around her. They were in a deserted courtyard of sorts, surrounded by dilapidated walls and banks of mist that seemed to twist with the sound of Merlin's yells.

Merlin... His cries knocked her back to her senses.

"Merlin!" she called, struggling to her feet. She felt a little nauseated as she stumbled towards him; his pain-filled screams weren't helping much.

Merlin was too busy feeling uncomfortable to notice Gwen's approach.

"Merlin?" Gwen asked fearfully, then hesitantly touched his shoulder, jolting him out of his focused state.

The last of the magic burst out of him in a second shockwave.

"Gwen!" he cried, his hand shooting out to grab her before she could be thrown to the ground yet a again. He hadn't realized she'd been teleported with him. That's what he got for using instincts – not that he'd had much of a choice.

"Thank you," Gwen said shakily.

"Are you all right?" Merlin asked, concerned.

Gwen touched his shoulder. "I think we should be more concerned about you," she said, examining his worn face.

Merlin slumped back, imagining that he probably looked as haggard as he felt. If that were the case, it was a wonder Gwen wasn't more frantic. "I feel like I've just run fifty miles," he admitted.

"What happened?" Gwen asked, her question directed more towards the air than Merlin.

Merlin sighed. "I'm not sure," he said. "But I have an idea."

He tried to stand, but Gwen dragged him back down. "You need to rest," she said firmly.

"I don't think we're going to be safe here for long," Merlin warned, but complied and settled back onto the dirt floor.

"Where do you think we are?" Gwen asked.

"The Isle of the Blessed," Merlin answered immediately. Its magical permeability was instantly recognizable and was the only reason the island wasn't overshadowed by a thunderstorm. All of the excess magic pouring out of Merlin had been absorbed by the walls.

Gwen blinked and shook her head. "Wait. Sorry. What?" she asked, giving him a confused expression. "You know where we are?"

Merlin exhaled.

"Gwen, I think I'm going to have to tell you something rather important," Merlin said distractedly. "It's either that or we're going to end up walking home," Merlin grimaced at the thought, "with no food, sleeping rolls, or horses, and through tunnels infested by wilderen – unless you want to go the short-cut over the mountain, but that requires cheating."

Merlin blinked and he raised his eyebrows. "Gwen, you're giving me an weird look."

Gwen stiffened.

"I don't blame you," Merlin said lightly.

Gwen hesitated, biting her lip. Despite his calm exterior, Merlin sounded a bit loopy. It wouldn't be surprising if the attack – the _magical_ attack – had scrambled his brains, causing him to spout random knowledge that could have only come from Gaius's textbooks. "Are you all right?" she asked, doubting that he'd be able to properly assess himself.

"More fine than you are, I imagine," Merlin said, giving her a look.

"It's nothing," Gwen said stiffly, confirming his beliefs. So she _had_ been hurt.

"I may have been a bit preoccupied at the time, but I heard you hit the ground," Merlin said firmly. "What hurts?"

Gwen bit her lip, still looking as though she'd rather not tell him. It was him that had been attacked by magic, not her. They should be more worried about him.

Merlin sighed.

Gwen slumped and carefully reached to touch the back of her head.

"May I see?" Merlin asked.

Gwen hesitated, then nodded.

Gently as he could, Merlin moved behind her and knelt down in order to examine the damage. He winced when Gwen let out a quiet gasp; his fingers had reached the tender area. Under her sticky hair, Merlin could feel a large bump that had formed.

He swallowed. "Gwen, you're bleeding," he informed her, slightly angry. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Gwen looked at her hands, her fingertips covered in crimson and nodded. She already knew that. Not that Merlin could do much to help her. Not in this place.

"Gwen, whatever happens next... don't move," he ordered, then quickly placed a spell on her to make sure she wouldn't. It wouldn't do to have him _miss_. He tried not to notice Gwen's shoulders tense as she felt the spell hit her back.

Merlin inhaled deeply, calming himself. "_Ábir__brægenpanne_," he whispered, eyes half-closed. He opened his golden eyes. Good, he thought gratefully, there were no cracks in her skull. This would be a fairly clean heal. "_Ácwiðe ábláwung_," he commanded, touching her head. "_Blódseten_."

The swelling went down almost immediately; skin closed around the wound, stopping the bleeding.

Satisfied, Merlin patted the healed area. "There you go," he said, relieved. He released her from his freezing spell.

After a moment, Gwen stirred with a jolt, as though she'd been stung by a bee. "You have magic," she accused quietly, in shock.

Merlin bit his lip. "I suppose I can't get around that, now," he confirmed with a small smile, staring at the back of her head.

"But... you have magic!" Gwen exclaimed, her voice a little raspy.

"Yes, I have magic," Merlin agreed patiently.

"You... you... what happened just now? Back in Camelot?" Gwen asked, slumping in defeat. "Did your magic go wrong?"

Merlin scooted around so he could look her in the eye. She seemed on edge, as though she expected him to explode again at any minute.

He grabbed her hands and said, "I would never hurt you on purpose, Gwen."

Gwen pulled her hands out of his grasp. "But you did hurt me, Merlin," she said sharply,"even if you didn't mean to."

Merlin tapped his fingers, agitated, on his knee. "I didn't hurt you Gwen – not even unintentionally. That wasn't me."

"Merlin, you collapsed and I was _flung to the ground_," she reminded him, somewhat angry.

Merlin grimaced. He looked around at their surroundings, not really wanting to face Gwen's hardened stare.

"I should be dead," he said suddenly, throwing her train of thought off balance. He stood up in determination. Gwen and him could have the "Merlin, you've betrayed us all" talk later.

"Someone just tried to _kill_ me."

Gwen frowned at his outburst. What was he going on about? He had _magic_. Couldn't he focus for one second?

Merlin was chuckling now. "Ha ha! Someone tried to kill _me_! They try to kill _me_ for once," he tutted them. "Wow. Too bad they didn't do their research."

"Merlin, you're babbling," Gwen told him with a scowl.

"See, Gwen," Merlin said quickly, ignoring her. "Most sorcerers have a limit to how much magic their bodies are allowed to take in before the energy consumes them and they spontaneously combust."

Gwen made a face.

"Exactly," Merlin agreed, making a face along with her. "I could be a pile of ash right now. For once I'm rather grateful to be Emrys – the whole 'unlimited magical capacity' comes with the title, you know."

Gwen blinked.

"At the same time, it's moments like these when I really scare myself," Merlin spouted, folding his arms and staring into the gray sky. "One of these days..." he murmured, leaving the despondent thought unfinished.

He looked down at Gwen. "You didn't understand any of that, did you?"

"What do you think?" she asked coolly.

"Well let me tell you right now that I'm not evil, not planning on taking over the world, or even going to change your dress a different color... unless you want me too?" he looked at her rather more hopefully than the situation warranted.

Gwen snorted – one the most unladylike sounds he'd ever heard from her. "You can change my dress color?" she asked, looking down at her fraying blue dress.

"I _told_ you I liked magic," Merlin said with a smile.

Gwen gave him an exasperated look, but her lips twitched upward.

"That day... at the picnic," she said hesitantly, "were you going to tell me about your magic?"

Merlin looked down at her and offered her a hand. She clenched her fist for a moment, then relented and let him pull her off the ground.

"I considered it," Merlin said honestly, once she was on her feet. "Sometimes it's frustrating not having anyone but Gaius to talk to."

"Gaius knows?" Gwen asked.

"Yep."

"And you thought about telling me, too."

"For a while."

Gwen pinched her lips. "Then why didn't you?" she demanded.

"Because then you'd start being suspicious of me being gone all the time and I'd have to explain _everything_ to you," Merlin said.

Gwen narrowed her eyes. "Everything of what?" she asked, giving him a stern look.

"Don't have time for that now," Merlin dodged. He turned on his heels and began marching towards one of the stone arches leading further into the construct. "We have a crazy sorceress to take care of."

Gwen lifted her skirt and hurried after him.

"Sorceress? What sorceress?" she asked, brow furrowed.

"Remember me screaming on the ground? Whoever did that is here. Right now," he emphasized.

"What? Here?" Gwen asked, her frown deepening. "Then shouldn't we be trying to get away?"

"Get away? No one's captured us," Merlin reminded her. "They think I'm dead, remember? Besides, I'm more than capable of defeating her."

He stopped, causing Gwen to nearly stumble into him.

"Blast. Which way is she?" he cursed, considering the three entranceways in front of them. They all led further into the complex – two underground and one further into the upper labyrinth.

"I think we should leave," Gwen told him, tugging on his sleeve.

"What?" Merlin asked incredulously. "And miss a chance to see the look on her face?"

"You keep saying 'her,'" Gwen said. "Do you know this person?"

"I kind of threatened her last month after she tried to surreptitiously assassinate me by assassinating Arthur," Merlin said distractedly. Then his face lit up. "All right, it's this way! I'm getting some life signals!" He took the middle corridor that led to the island's underground caverns.

"Wait!" Gwen said anxiously, rushing to keep up with his quick strides.

"Ooo, getting a bit dark," Merlin noted as they hiked further away from the tunnel's entrance. "Fair warning, Gwen – I'm going to put up some light for us."

"With magic?" Gwen asked, her frame stiffening. But she found that she wasn't as fearful as she thought she'd be. Just... curious.

"Mmm," Merlin hummed as he flung out his palm. A string of blue wizard's lights popped into existence, lighting the entire passage ahead.

"Oh!" Gwen exclaimed, her eyes sparkling in wonder. "Merlin, they're beautiful!"

Merlin grinned as he glanced at her.

"I mean it," she said with emphasis. She reached out to brush one with her fingers but it danced out of reach. "They're really lovely."

"I thought you'd like them," Merlin said, pleased.

Gwen gave him a smile.

"So how long have you practiced magic?" Gwen asked.

"All my life," Merlin replied.

"Really? It can even be taught to children?" she asked, processing the idea.

"Ah, well, sometimes. But I wasn't actually _taught_ magic. I'm a warlock, see," he said.

"A warlock? Is that different from a sorcerer?" she asked, head tilted.

Merlin nodded, trying to slow down his pace so she wouldn't have to keep skipping to stay level with him. "Warlocks and witches usually have such high capacities for magic that eventually it overflows the barriers that keep most humans from using magic; sorcerers and sorceresses have to study in order to gain any magical abilities," he explained. He was experiencing a strange sense of d_éjà vu, as he'd already had this near-exact conversation with Gwen's older self._

_ "I guess with magic being banned, I'd never considered there being different types of sorcerers," she admitted._

_ "Understandable," Merlin pardoned her. "Actually," he informed, "I've cataloged over forty different types of magic users. Enchanters, mystics, hedge wizards, necromancers..."_

_ Gwen raised her eyebrows. "Really?" she acknowledged, amused by his enthusiasm._

_ "Technically, you can be more than one of them. Remember the old lady who disguised herself as Lady Helen?"_

_ "How could I forget?" Gwen responded._

_ "Well she was a witch because she had innate magic, a sorceress because she studied magic, and an enchantress because she used singing to carry out some of her spells," Merlin explained._

_ "But then wouldn't all enchanters be sorcerers?" Gwen asked. "Wouldn't they all have to study magic in order for it to work through their singing?"_

_ "Not necessarily," Merlin replied, delighted by her questioning. "I once met a boy who weaved magic into his singing without even realizing it. For some reason, magical threads loved his vocal tones."_

_ "Did anything happen to him?" she asked._

_ "What? Why?"_

_ "Well, magic's illegal," she pointed out hesitantly. "Did he... ever get caught?"_

_ "I'm from Essestir," Merlin reminded, though in reality the boy had been wandering from town to town in Camelot, not even born in this time period, enthralling his tavern audiences with his singing. Gwaine had actually been the one to first be suspicious of him and had subsequently informed Merlin._

_ "Ah," Gwen said._

_ "Aaand we should probably be quieter now; we're getting closer," Merlin warned in a low voice._

_ Gwen wanted to protest (she really didn't want to fight any sorceresses), but she didn't want to warn the enemy of their arrival either, so she stayed silent._

_ Merlin began to concentrate on the magic auras around him. It was a bit overwhelming with the walls completely saturated by hundreds of years worth of enchantments but he stayed vigilant. He didn't want to accidentally trigger any wards Nimueh had framed. __That__ would ruin the surprise._

_ It was very likely that the high priestess was sleeping... or at the very least resting. She had just completed a very complicated and rather draining spell – or curse, if one wanted to get specific._

_ Merlin held up a silencing hand when they got within twenty feet of their destination, but it was unnecessary. Even Gwen was able to tell when they arrived and she had immediately quieted her footsteps. Candlelight was pouring out from under the door's crack, the only light within the past five minutes to compete with Merlin's blue lights._

_ "Guinevere?" Merlin whispered._

_ "Yes?" Gwen answered, her anxiety peeking through._

_ "Whatever happens, you will never have a reason to be afraid," he promised._

_ Gwen felt her face heat up._

_ Then the tunnel went dark as Merlin removed his wizard's lights. Before Gwen's eyes had time to adjust, the door was suddenly blown off its hinges with an obnoxiously loud noise, sending splinters of wood flying through the air._

_ "Nimueh!" Merlin yelled, marching into the room._

_ Gwen bit her lip, wondering whether she should enter. When it came to magic, she knew next to nothing, and if she were to get in Merlin's way and ruin it for him..._

_ "Gwen!" he called, interrupting her thoughts. "You can come in!"_

_ Guinevere took in a deep breath and sidled into the room. Her eyebrows raised in mild surprise when she got panoramic view of the new setting. For a room branching off of a roughly-carved tunnel, it was positively posh. It was nearly as furnished as Morgana's room, if with slightly outdated designs. The only throwbacks were the moth-eaten tapestries and the cobwebs strung like netting across the ceiling._

"This is is where the high priestesses of the isle would stay," Merlin informed her. "It hasn't been used in twenty years.

"...Until now," he finished, refocusing his gaze on the frozen woman he had his arm extended towards. She looked as though she'd been in the middle of sleeping when Merlin had burst in on her.

"You!" Gwen exclaimed with a frown, easily recognizing her as Gwen's competition from the feast for King Bayard. "She's a sorceress?"

"A witch," Merlin corrected, "and a high priestess of the old religion. She's also a bitter old lady."

The woman in question seemed to tense as she struggled against some unknown bonds. Merlin's teeth clenched. With a surge of effort, her eyes turned gold. Then she doubled over, gasping, finally releasing herself from the spell.

"You..." Nimueh trailed off, breathing hard. "You should not be alive."

"Tell me about it," Merlin agreed. "I've been poisoned, stabbed, shot, enchanted, thrown off cliffs, touched by the dead, drowned, burned, frozen, and now, apparently saturated by magic. I should have been dead years ago."

Nimueh sniffed, straightening.

"So you _are_ Emrys, then," she said with narrowed eyes, sounding resigned. Gwen's face remained blank. She didn't understand the term.

"Oh, you're figuring this out _now_?" Merlin mocked.

"I was not sure," the priestess said, brushing hair out of her face.

"So you went ahead and tried to kill me," Merlin said dryly.

"You still should not have survived it," she said, almost curious.

It was strange, Merlin reflected, seeing Nimueh in such a vulnerable position. Even when he'd been in the field with Gaius, she'd been on her feet, attempting to block his attacks. When he'd been younger he'd seen her as some invincible opponent he'd only been able to beat because he'd caught her off guard. Here... she was very human: in bed, hair tangled, sleep still muddling her thoughts. It made him wonder if he would still be that human, even after a thousand years of living.

"You would have realized if you'd devoted any attention to the druids' teachings," Merlin scolded. "I am the most powerful sorcerer to ever exist. Cornealus Sigan? The Fisher King? They have nothing on me.

"You tried to kill me by imbuing all of Camelot's magic on me," Merlin accused. "Most people would have died within seconds. Me? You would have drained the entire country and destroyed everything within miles if I hadn't teleported and cut off the spell. What you did was thoughtless and irresponsible, and quite frankly, I believe all your lonely bitterness has knocked your intelligence a notch."

Nimueh sneered. "You are but a child. What do you know of bitterness?"

Merlin raised his eyebrows. "More than I'd like," he said simply. "Enough to know that it can drive you mad."

Nimueh scoffed, "You were not alive to see the things I saw, the families ripped to shreds by the fury of Uther Pendragon." She spat out the royal's name as though it were poison.

"I didn't need to be there," Merlin said coldly. "The crystal cave showed me quite enough."

Nimueh lifted her head. "Yet you continue to defend him?" she asked, her eyes flashing.

"I defend Arthur and I defend magic," Merlin said. "That is my destiny."

"But Uther?" she asked, tilting her head.

"I believe I already gave you my reasons on that count," Merlin told her. "I offered you amnesty, an alternative solution, but you refused to take part."

"And I suppose you will enforce your wishes, now?" she mocked, her smile quirking into a smirk. Gwen blanched. She hadn't been able to follow most of the conversation so far, but she recognized a come-on when she heard one.

"Stop flirting, I can see through your illusion," Merlin reminded tiredly.

Nimueh narrowed her eyes.

"She's about fifty," Merlin said behind his hand in a mock-whisper.

Gwen didn't laugh. Nimueh looked too ominous for that.

"And are you the age you claim to be?" Nimueh said, eyes narrowing. "So young for knowing so much."

Merlin cursed her perceptiveness. "I'm Emrys," he said. "I _am_ magic. Age has nothing to do with it."

"Oh, really?" she smirked.

Merlin clenched his teeth. He was losing the conversation.

"I know enough to recognize dark magic when it attacks me – there was a reason that spell was banned," he said, turning the focus back on the witch.

"Banned by who?" Nimueh asked bitterly. "They're either dead or in hiding."

"You could have destroyed everyone," Merlin countered. "The blood on your head would have exceeded Uther Pendragon."

Nimueh sucked in a breath, her eyes flickering with barely-restrained fury. "You dare compare me to Uther!"

"Murderers should stick together," he snarled.

Merlin agreed that his comment had been a low blow. But she was most certainly not beneath killing innocent people for her personal gain (or revenge). She already had Ygraine's blood on her hands (however involuntary, but it could have been anyone else), the victims of the Afanc, her multiple attempts to kill Merlin, and probably others he wasn't aware of.

He knew this, so he really had no excuse for being caught off guard by her sudden assault.

"_Oferswing_!" Nimueh cried out furiously.

"Ahh!" Merlin barely had time to block the spell by holding up a palm. The offensive magic pressed against his shield, sending him skidding into the stone wall behind him.

Gwen gave a startled yelp at Nimueh's cry and she jumped slightly, putting her hands to her mouth.

"_Ætstand_!" Merlin shouted back, automatically reverting back to verbal form in his rushed state.

Nimueh was once again frozen in position.

Merlin breathed out a sigh of relief.

"I'm sorry, Gwen," he apologized, turning to the scared girl. "I didn't intend for this to turn into a duel."

Gwen swallowed. "What- what are you going to do with her?" she asked, once she realized that Nimueh had been immobilized.

Merlin sighed. "That's the big question, isn't it?" he asked. "If a proper government were in place, I'd turn her over to Uther."

"What has she done?" Gwen asked.

"You want the whole list?" Merlin asked with raised eyebrows.

"Has she killed anyone?" she asked bluntly.

"Yes," Merlin affirmed grimly. "Yes, she has."

"Innocent people?" Gwen inquired, glancing over at the silent figure on the bed.

"Yes," Merlin sighed.

"And she tried to kill you?" she asked.

"And Arthur," Merlin added.

Gwen raised her head. "What about the 'dark magic' she's been using?"

"Anything that takes away another's will, modifies memories, alters emotions, interacts with the dead without proper authority, tortures the mind and body, or manipulates the magic web to a point where nature is unbalanced... it's all considered dark magic," he listed off. He didn't bother mentioning that he himself had at least bordered on the edges of most of the offenses, in some cases crossing the line in such a way that the nature of the magic he used was unmistakable.

And he hated it every time. It always left him feeling tainted.

Really, the things he did for Camelot...

"So basically-"

Gwen was cut off by Merlin's quick assessment. "She's worthy of execution by any kingdom's law," Merlin completed for her grimly.

"So... what are we going to do?" Gwen asked. From her tone and body language, it was very clear that she had no desire to be part of an execution.

Merlin leaned his head against the wall.

"I don't know."

Nimueh was gaining power over the spell again. In fact, Merlin had a feeling her weariness was the only reason she hadn't broken it sooner.

He pointed a finger at at the witch and his eyes flashed golden.

Gwen blinked at him nervously.

"The spell was wearing off," he explained.

"Oh," she was all she could say.

"We don't have much time," Merlin said. "Eventually the spell will have very little effect at all."

The two friends stared at each other.

"Couldn't we just leave her?" Gwen finally suggested desperately, almost hopefully.

Merlin ran a hand through his hair. "I'd hate to think more innocent people will suffer because I didn't do anything." Even if he was, technically, in a world that wasn't reality. He ruffled his hair, frustrated. "I need more time!"

"What would you do?" Gwen asked.

"Imprison her magic. Put a watch spell on her. I don't know!" he growled at himself.

Gwen was quiet for a moment.

"I'm glad you don't want to kill her," she said softy.

Merlin didn't look at her in the fear that she would see the guilt in his eyes.

It wasn't that he enjoyed killing or even that he wanted to. But sometimes, it was the most simple solution – the easiest way out. Of course it made it easier when they fought back. Killing always seemed more honorable when it was done that way.

Maybe he should just let Nimueh escape his hold on her – let her fight back. Would that justify taking matters into his own hands? No, he decided. Because it would be too easy.

But didn't he _have_ the authority? The back of his mind brought up the question. He was Emrys, lord of magic. Nimueh had abused magic and the laws of life, and she had been fully aware of the fact when she'd cast her spells. In all rights, at least back home, he would most certainly have the authority.

Did he have the authority here, though, in a universe that wasn't even his own?

Did having the power to do something still mean he should do it, if it were for the benefit of all, even if it was as _final_ as enforcing a death penalty?

Merlin grimaced. Sometimes he envied Arthur. The king had a talent for looking at the world in shades of black and white, rather than the constant grays that Merlin viewed them.

"She broke the _law_, Merlin," the king would tell him with a sigh. "It's your duty as a citizen to take action."

"The current laws aren't exactly just, Arthur," Merlin retorted.

"What?" Gwen asked, making a face.

Oh. He hadn't meant to say that out loud.

"Philosophical conversation with myself," he answered uncomfortably.

"And Arthur is...?" she questioned.

"Not important," Merlin sniffed.

"And did Arthur come up with any good ideas?" she asked with amusement.

Merlin narrowed his eyes. "Arthur's opinion is irrelevant in this situation."

"Yet you were having a philosophical debate with him," she pointed out.

"I only debate with Arthur when I want to be right," he said.

Gwen smiled as widely as the situation warranted before looking over at Nimueh and nodding in her direction.

"Solution, then?" she asked.

"We could tie her up," was all Merlin could come up with.

"Assuming we can find something to do that with, then what?"

"We put her into Arthur's wardrobe and see how he reacts," Merlin said with a straight face.

Despite the seriousness of the growing problem Gwen couldn't help but laugh. "I can't imagine that would go over well."

"No, I don't suppose it would. Even more – imagine if we put her in _Uther_'s..." Merlin trailed off in an odd stupor, "...wardrobe."

Merlin snapped his fingers. "Oi! Nimueh!"

Nimueh blinked. She stretched her limbs experimentally.

Gwen tried not to look startled. She hadn't expected Merlin spontaneously release the woman who had nearly killed him (and who would probably kill Gwen if she felt like it).

"If you know I'm Emyrs, why are you attacking me?" Merlin demanded, folding his arms in annoyance.

Nimueh pressed her lips together, looking

"Do you really have so little faith in the future?" Merlin asked her pityingly. "You know Arthur and I will bring in Albion's golden age – it has been prophesied. There is no reason for you to continue your war."

"I didn't know you were Emrys," Nimueh said stiffly.

"You suspected," Merlin said.

Nimueh was quiet.

"Yet still plan on killing me?" he asked.

Nimueh pursed her lips. "Your methods leave something to be desired."

Merlin crossed his arms. "Who has the divine, much-prophesied destiny of bringing magic back to Albion? You or me?"

Nimueh scowled.

"Exactly – so now that you know, stop interfering," Merlin ordered.

"And Uther?"

"And we're back to this again," Merlin said with and eye-roll. "I already told you I had a plan for smuggling magic-users who get caught to safety."

Nimueh sneered.

Merlin sighed. "I admit that calling you a murderer was uncongenial – you're more of a peacock with a last-standing-soldier syndrome," he said aptly.

"Is that supposed to be flattery?" Nimueh asked dryly.

"No. That was a thinly-veiled insult," Merlin said honestly, his eyes narrowing. "Even you should be able to foresee the consequences of killing innocent bystanders through magical means. If I ever catch you trying anything like that again, I will kill you."

Nimueh gave him a wry look. "Very well. No magic users die by Uther's hand ever again, and I promise not to interfere."

"Good," Merlin said pointedly. "Now was that so hard?"

Nimueh relaxed back into her pillows, closing her eyes, managing to look more like a corpse than a person getting ready to fall back asleep.

"Fine, ignore me," Merlin sniffed. He turned to Gwen. "Ready to go?"

Gwen sent Nimueh a nervous glance. "Merlin..." she said quietly. "Are you sure we can trust her?"

"No," Merlin said, stepping over the debris of the door and back into the tunnel. "But if she misbehaves I can find her easily enough – and she knows it."

"Then why didn't we just leave before?" Gwen asked, exasperated.

"Because I had to clarify that killing me or anyone else would be detrimental to her personal interests," Merlin explained. He flicked his fingers and released another trail of wizard's lights leading back above ground.

Gwen blinked at the flickering orbs, her thoughts momentarily distracted by the sudden display of magic.

Finally she swallowed and said, "Well I hope she leaves you alone."

"And Camelot," Merlin added.

"Camelot too," Gwen agreed.

They were both quiet on their journey back to the courtyard. Gwen was still trying to cope with the tidal wave of information thrown at her. In fact, she was well-aware that even though her mind was blank at the moment, a million questions were going to hit her later. And she expected Merlin to answer every one of them, or else. Then again, she reasoned with a slight amount of fear, Merlin was a sorcerer and didn't have to do anything she told him to. Hoping that Merlin couldn't detect her nervousness, Gwen took a few steps away from him. Merlin didn't notice. He was too busy contemplating whether it was truly wise to leave Nimueh to her own devices. People could very well die because of his leniency.

Gwen took in a small breath when Merlin stopped her and she realized they were standing back in the middle of the empty courtyard. She stared despairingly at the misty surroundings. "How long have we been gone?" she asked.

"A little under an hour, I imagine," Merlin replied distractedly. He was pacing back and forth, pausing at random cobblestones and wrinkling his nose, shaking his head and moving on.

Gwen bit her lip. "Morgana's probably wondering where I've gone off to."

"Just tell her you got caught in the thunderstorm. I let off enough power to make it pour for at least a half hour," Merlin informed her, swiveling as he oriented himself in a very specific position.

"But you've said it's been an hour!" Gwen exclaimed. Suddenly she was very worried that she wouldn't be able to keep Merlin's secret. She'd never had to lie before in her life – not for anything big or important anyway. Not since thirteen-year-old Morgana had made her promise not to tell anyone that she'd kissed Arthur after he'd been knocked unconscious after his first try at jousting.

"I don't think she'll be that concerned. Morgana seems to be fairly reasonable for a noblewoman," Merlin told her, unworried. "Now come over here."

Gwen tilted her head curiously as she slowly stepped towards him. "I need you to be in the same position you were when you were transported," Merlin said, standing up and moving away so Gwen could replace him.

O o O

It took fifteen minutes for Merlin to find the teleportation tunnel his instinctual magic had created to transport both himself and Gwen to the isle – fifteen minutes of Gwen lying awkwardly on the ground and long enough to make Merlin's knees burn from kneeling.

To top it off, he now had another magical headache.

"Camelot looks like someone dumped a bucket of water over it," Gwen noted in solemn reverence, staring up at the dripping stonework and streets slopped with at least four inches of muck.

Merlin winced. A lot of people were going to be decidedly miserable for a while. He watched in grim sympathy as a farmer, mumbling curses, tried to pull his cart out of a rut full of mud.

The warlock's eyes turned gold briefly.

The man fell backwards in shock as his cart suddenly shot out of the murky puddle.

Gwen didn't even suspect.

"I don't think I want to walk through this," she admitted.

"Then it's a good thing I know an emergency flight tunnel that leads from the inner wall to the edge of the courtyard, isn't it?" Merlin said cheekily.

Tired, Gwen didn't even have the heart to look surprised.

O o O

"_Mer_lin! Where were you?" the prince asked, looking up from his place by the fire, looking rather disgruntled. "I got _soaked _out there!"

"So did I," Merlin defended.

"Then why didn't you come back?" Arthur asked in a low voice – his warning voice. "I had to walk all the way back _in my armor_."

"Because I was being a chivalrous," Merlin explained in exasperation. "A concept even you should have a slight appreciation for, I'd hope."

Arthur gave him a confused look. "Why would _you_ need to be chivalrous?"

Merlin let out a long-suffering sigh.

"Gwen and I got stuck in the hall outside the guards' barracks," Merlin spouted the story Gwen and him had decided upon. "I couldn't just _leave_ her there, if you understand my meaning. So I waited with her until it stopped raining. And then, when it finally did stop, the streets were so full of mud that you're lucky I bothered to change before coming to your room, even if it would be me who ended up cleaning away the mess it made."

Arthur stared at Merlin, drilling his fingers against the armrest.

Merlin didn't really like the suspicious expression Arthur was sending him. "What?" he snapped.

Arthur opened his mouth, then closed it again. Finally he asked, "Merlin, are you courting Guinevere?"

If ever a question were to come out of Arthur Pendragon's mouth, that was the last question Merlin would ever have expected... unless there was a threat of extermination added onto to the end of it.

"I'll take that as a no," Arthur said, relaxing slightly at Merlin's incredulous, slack-jawed expression.

"Duh," Merlin said firmly.

"That's a bit harsh," Arthur said easily, reaching for an apple from the table next to him.

"I see her as a sister, nothing else," Merlin said with a sigh.

"Morgana says she likes you," Arthur added, before he considered the consequences of just what exactly could happen if he went around telling girls' secrets.

The reply was unexpected.

A sigh.

Then, "I know."

"Oh, well, then," Arthur said, shifting, "you're not completely oblivious," failing to recognize that he hadn't noticed until Morgana had told him (not that he'd been paying attention to such things).

"Sometimes I wish I were," Merlin said despondently.

"Then I suppose I can only wish you good luck," Arthur said, some real sympathy laced into his words.

"Thanks," Merlin mumbled.

"Ah, but you're not getting away that easily. We're still having that match, you know," Arthur said forcefully. "Tomorrow then?"

Merlin nearly walked over to the wall so he could bang his head against it, headache or no headache.

O o O

"I hope supper's ready, Gaius," Merlin said miserably, dragging himself into the physician's chambers.

"It is, Merlin. Put your boots by the door," Gaius told him.

Merlin stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He looked up and froze.

"Gwen?" he asked stupidly, staring at the woman sitting at the table, very calmly eating her soup.

"Hello, Merlin," she said easily, giving him a small smile.

"Gwen's been telling me quite a story, Merlin," Gaius said, causing Merlin's head to jerk in his direction. The old man didn't look particularly happy.

"You told him," Merlin asked incredulously.

Gwen looked slightly guilty. "Since he's your guardian, I figured it would be best if he knew."

Merlin spluttered.

Finally he cleared his throat. "I was going to tell you eventually," he muttered.

"Nimueh attacked you," Gaius said tensely. "Why would you even think about _not_ telling me?" he demanded.

"Because you have a tendency to overreact," Merlin almost said, but thought better of it. Nothing peaceful would come of provoking the physician. "There was nothing either you or I could have done to stop the spell," he answered simply.

"Nothing we could have-," Gaius shook his head. "Merlin, she shouldn't even have had a reason to do it in the first place!"

"I can't exactly go back in the past and not threaten her, Gaius," Merlin pointed out.

Gaius noticed that his ward was eying the soup on the table. It was obvious that until he ate, there would be no reasoning with the boy. "Sit down," he said with a sigh, and shuffled to retrieved a bowl from the cupboards.

Merlin did as he was asked, looking relieved.

He gave Gaius a grateful look when the soup was plopped in front of him.

"Eat more slowly or you'll get the hiccups," Gaius said with a hint of amusement.

Merlin stopped inhaling his food and looked up in slight annoyance. "I just channeled the magic of the entire city of Camelot. I'm hungry," he said stiffly, then went right back to slurping down his soup.

Gaius sighed.

Then he frowned. "Merlin," he began slowly, "what spell exactly did Nimueh use on you?"

"Atmospheric magic extraction and insertion spell," Merlin said between bites.

Gaius pursed his lips. "I've never heard of such a thing."

"That's because it was banned hundreds of years ago," Merlin said. "There are only a few who live today who even know it exists."

Gaius didn't bother asking how Merlin knew about it.

"What does it do?" he asked. "And more importantly, why was it banned?"

"It takes all of the magic within a certain perimeter and converges it on a specific epicenter," Merlin said. "The sorcerer who invented it was trying to come up with a way to make another version of the crystal cave. I suspect the man was also an idiot," he clarified. "Doing something like that could harm the very balance of magic, even more so than Uther's purge if focused on the right epicenter. It could end up draining all of the magic energies around it until there weren't any left. Then the magic from other areas would come in to compensate."

"And she focused the spell on you?" Gaius asked in horror.

"She thought it would be the only way to kill me," Merlin said. "A duel would be pointless. And other long-distance spells would have been blocked by my anti-scrying enchantments.

"If I'd been an ordinary sorcerer, I would have died within a few seconds," Merlin said point-blank. Gaius stared at him solemnly. Yes, Gwen had said something like that, even if she had been a bit confused. "But as Emrys," Merlin continued, "I have an endless capacity for channeling magic, but not very much control – hence the thunderstorm."

"And what did Nimueh have to give in exchange for such a terrible power?" Gaius asked.

Merlin stopped eating. "I don't know," he confessed. "I never learned how to do the spell."

He'd forgotten that Nimueh would have had to do something nearly as potent as a blood sacrifice in order to achieve such devastating abilities.

Gaius blinked in surprise when Melrin sprung from his chair. Gwen watched with confusion.

"And where do you think you're going?" Gauis demanded as Merlin stalked to his bedroom.

"To see Nimueh!" Merlin said angrily. "I want to know just who exactly she killed so that she could get to me."

"Merlin!" Gaius scolded in astonishment. "What are you? An imbecile? You intend to go confront Nimueh in this state, just after you made peace with her?"

Merlin clenched his teeth and turned around. "Gaius," he pleaded with hard eyes. "What she has done... that was evil, Gaius. It would be like ripping the veil between mortality and the spirit world, it would be like putting water where there is air and air where there is water. What she did should never have happened!"

"And you think your the one to tell her?" Gaius asked.

"I'm Emrys."

"Who has only known his role for two months," Gaius said firmly. "Besides, doing something as horrible as that would harm her more than you ever could – her very soul has been tainted now."

Merlin slumped. Tainted souls. Those were the very souls – if corrupted enough – who would eventually become the Dorocha, those who were too tied to the physical and magical world to go very far from the veil. The Cailleach was their mistress, the one who made sure they weren't allowed out.

"Very well," he said hoarsely.

"Thank you," Gaius breathed, leading his ward back to the table.

Merlin sat down in an exhausted heap.

Gwen watched him with a concerned and uncertain gaze.

"What- what does 'Emrys' mean?" she asked after a moment.

Gaius looked from her to Merlin.

"You explain it," Merin muttered, waving a hand at Gaius and promptly laying his head on the table.

Gaius took in a breath and began to explain in the simplest terms possible all of the things Emrys had been prophesied to do, including protecting the Once and Future King (he didn't tell her it was Arthur, he'd rather leave that chore to Merlin), bringing magic back to Albion, leading the druids to a more unified order, becoming the most powerful sorcerer to ever exist... and the list went on.

"I don't see how you can be so... childish all the time when you have so much responsibility," Gwen said with disbelief, in response to Gaius's explanation.

"Me? Childish?" Merlin said with mock-indignation. His words were slurring slightly, so he straightened his spine in fear that he'd fall asleep in his soup.

Gwen gave him a look.

Merlin smiled. "It's a coping mechanism," he explained lightly.

Gwen struggled with this for a moment before nodding hesitantly.

"I didn't used to," he explained. "Not really anyways... being a smart-mouth was part of my personality." Gaius snorted.

"And it isn't anymore?" she asked with skeptical amusement.

"Yes... and no," Merlin decided. "I used to do it just to defy authority – I never really liked authority figures much." Gwen bit her lips to keep from giggling. Gaius huffed.

"But now I do it as an alternative," he finished, his smile turning into something a bit sadder than before.

"Alternative to what?" Gwen asked, uncertain if she really wanted to know, with the ominous tone Merlin had adopted.

"Yelling. Whispering," Merlin answered. "What I do when I'm angry."

Gwen tilted her head, considering him. "I don't think I've ever seen you angry before. I mean, not really, truly angry. Not even just now, when you were marching back to confront Nimueh."

"You never will," Merlin said firmly. "Things – people – tend to involuntarily burst into flame when I get angry."

Gwen cringed.

"It didn't used to happen," Merlin informed her. "Before my power increased, my emotions rarely affected my magic. Now, I can barely drink alcohol with sending magical butterflies everywhere."

Gwen's eyes opened with a sudden clarity. "Oh! That's why I've never seen you drink... All right, I suppose that makes sense." Gaius nodded. Merlin had explained this to him within the fist few days of arriving.

"I'm just glad that I know water purifying spells," Merlin muttered. It was fine in Camelot – they had an underground source that didn't connect aboveground at all. But places like Ealdor, with their shallow wells, had sewage, manure, and who knew what else leaking into them. Comparatively, the water tasted positively foul. And it didn't help that Gaius had enlightened him to certain aspects of hygiene that he'd been previously unaware of before coming to Camelot all those years ago.

"Hm?"

"Nothing," Merlin said absently. "I use magic to make water taste better is all."

"Makes sense," Gwen agreed heartily.

They were almost to Gwen's house now.

"So you can't let yourself get mad anymore," Gwen said.

"Nope."

"So instead of getting mad you... make fun of the situation?" Gwen interpret her previous knowledge.

"Petty way of putting it," Merlin sniffed. Then he laughed. "I suppose so. I have a rather dark sense of humor now, don't I? I'm very good with irony and sarcasm."

"All right Merlin, that's enough," Gaius snapped lightly. "You look dead on your feet. Gwen, do you mind?"

"Not at all!" Gwen said, quickly standing up from the table. "Thank you for the soup, Gaius"

"Thank you for telling me about Merlin," Gaius said.

As Gwen made a move for the door, Merlin stood up.

"I'll escort you home," he offered. Then he tripped over the bench and landed on his face.

"Oh, Merlin!" Gwen exclaimed, moving towards him. "Are you alright?"

"He's fine," Gaius said dryly, watching his ward pick himself up from off the floor.

Gwen bit her lip.

Then her forehead crinkled in confusion. "Arthur keeps talking about how great a warrior you are," she said. There was a moments' pause as Merlin stared up at her, his eyebrows raised in expectation.

"Oh, right," she said awkwardly, feeling a little silly. Then she narrowed her eyes. "You're cheating!" she accused.

"Better believe it," the skinny warlock mumbled, pushing himself to his feet.

Gaius moved in front of his ward before the boy could repeat his offer to Gwen. "Now you, up to bed. Gwen, I'll walk you home. It is getting rather dark."

"Thank you, Gaius," she said with appreciation.

Merlin watched his old mentor and the young not-queen walk out the door, click it shut, and leave him alone.

Silence.

His muddy boots already off, Merlin stumbled into his room and collapsed on his bed, not even bothering to close the door behind him.

The last thing he remembered thinking was that he'd forgotten to do Arthur's laundry.


	18. The Long Week Part 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Merlin_**

A/N: I know it's not much, but to make up for taking so long, this is my longest chapter yet. Maybe it can help get some of you through until the second part of the finale.

* * *

><p>Merlin found himself in need of a long vacation. A very, very long vacation. Only a week had gone by since Nimueh had attacked him and he'd managed to: completely drain his finances, defeat a griffon, completely astonish Arthur, become an irritation of nearly all of Camelot's knights, nearly get sacked, visit a tavern, introduce two people to the oppression of Master Gilroy, increase Camelot's wall guard by one, and compose a defense against one of Kilgharrah's famous lectures.<p>

Oh, and Gwen probably didn't have a crush on him anymore.

But that could be debated.

Merlin sighed and flopped himself onto his bed. The moonlight streamed through his window, projecting its white light onto his walls, making weird shapes out of the shadows. One of them looked like Freya, her hair flowing in the wind.

"I'll go mad," Merlin said aloud. For some reason, talking made him feel better.

"I'm not delegating enough responsibility," he continued. He watched as Freya shifted into a blob that may have resembled Arthur with a beard.

"Arthur, next time a disaster strikes, I vote you go and fix it," Merlin said with a tone of finality, staring at the blob.

Too bad Arthur had a broken leg.

O o O

_One Week Earlier:_

"Merlin."

"G'way," Merlin grumbled, rolling over in his bed.

"_Mer_lin," the voice got louder.

Merlin grimaced and pinched open his eyes. "What is it?" he asked blearily.

"There's a messenger for you in my chambers," Gaius answered snappishly. The physician was still in his nightgown. "So hurry up and get dressed, otherwise I fear you won't get anything to eat for breakfast."

Curious, Merlin sat up in his bed and quickly exchanged his nightshirt for one of his semi-clean day shirts, then pulled on his boots and hurried down the stairs.

The messenger took in Merlin's mussy hair and disheveled clothes with a controlled lack of interest. So this was Arthur's manservant. He hadn't ever dealt with the man before, let alone talked with him, but he had certainly heard rumors.

"Yes?" Merlin asked, bouncing towards the table and the cold soup Gaius had just barely set out for him. The quickly pulled-together breakfast was made up of the leftovers from the night before.

"There have been multiple attacks on the outer villages," the man said, clicking his heels together as he relayed his message. "King Uther has ordered for Prince Arthur's presence in the throne room, and his saddles packed for a day's journey within the hour."

"Did they say who was attacking?" Merlin asked, his mouth full. If it hadn't been so dark, it would have been easier to see the mysterious steam that was now rising from the supposedly cold meal.

"No," the messenger responded.

Merlin tapped the side of his bowl in contemplation. "Hmm..."

"I'll have the prince up in a minute then," Merlin promised, gulping down another large spoonful of soggy vegetables. He was searching his brain for memories of village attacks, but nothing specific stood out – it seemed as though raiders, mad sorcerers, and wild animals had constantly been on the rampage back when Uther was in charge (which, he supposed, was technically _now_).

The messenger watched Merlin sceptically. The manservant certainly didn't look like a person who was rushing to get anywhere.

"I'm assuming your message has been delivered?" Gaius asked pointedly, rupturing the man's wandering attention.

"Erm... yes," he said, watching the old physician nervously. He was quite aware that he'd broken the man's slumber.

"Good-bye then," Gaius said, shooing the man towards the door. The man scuttled away, giving Gaius a slightly terrified look before vanishing.

"He was only doing his job," Merlin reminded, amused.

Gaius harrumphed. "Well I'm going back to bed," he sniffed, shuffling towards his personal space to the side of the room.

"Did you have to do any late night rounds?" Merlin asked, concerned.

"Lady Harriet finally decided to have her baby last night," Gaius said, shaking his head.

Merlin smiled. "Little Richard!" he declared.

Gaius frowned. "Merlin, how would you know such a thing?"

Merlin's froze, the spoon halfway into his mouth. He hadn't exactly meant to say that out loud. Richard was the shortest knight of the round table during Arthur's reign, but he was deadly with a set of throwing knives, and had a sense of humor that Merlin rather appreciated, much to Arthur's horror.

"So it was a boy!" Merlin improvised. "They were going to call the baby Lilleth if it were a girl."

"Ah," Gaius acknowledged tiredly, slowly lowering himself to the bed.

Merlin sighed in relief.

O o O

"Gaius!" Merlin exclaimed later that morning, sounding strangely ecstatic. "With Arthur gone, I suddenly find myself with the day off."

Gaius smiled slightly. "Well, if that's the case..."

"Don't get excited, I'm going back to bed," Merlin interrupted. "I still have a headache to sleep off."

"Surely you won't be sleeping all day," Gaius said questioningly.

"No," Merlin agreed. "But I'm not letting you stack any chores on me," he scolded. Gaius sighed in resignation. He really needed his leech tank cleaned.

Merlin smiled slightly, sending a subtle glance in the tank's direction and explained, "Collin and Erin will be here in four days, and I still have to figure out what I'm supposed to do about Arthur thinking I'm some sort of expert sword fighter."

Gaius frowned. "Who are Collin and Erin? And _what_ is this about Arthur?" he questioned.

"Oh... I forgot to tell you," Merlin said, slapping his forehead. "Collin and Erin are the druids who volunteered to live in Camelot."

"And you're sure you have a place for them to stay?" Gaius asked.

"I've already arranged it with Gilroy," Merlin said confidently. Then he paused for a second. "Though... I might have mentioned that they were your great nephews."

Gaius narrowed his eyes. "Merlin, I don't have any siblings," he said with a frown. "And there _are_ people in this castle who are aware of my family's circumstances."

"Sorted," Merlin said promptly. "They're the grandsons of your stepbrother, the brother you never really got to know because you had moved out by the time your father remarried."

Gaius pursed his lips in indignation.

Merlin held up his hands. "I know. I know. Your parents died within a year of each other. But I had to get them a job!" he reasoned.

Gaius shook his head. "So you went and used my family tree?"

Merlin bit his lip before cautiously saying, "Erm... yes."

Gaius looked at the ceiling. "I suppose there's nothing I can do now. They're coming in four days, you say?" he inquired.

Merlin nodded. "I was pleased to find them. They're reasonably powerful and bright enough to understand orders the first time, so I won't have to repeat any instructions," he informed.

"Although it would be good idea to repeat them anyways," Gaius said wisely.

"Probably," Merlin agreed with a smile, he made a move towards his door, but the physician stopped him.

"And you mentioned something about Arthur thinking you are an 'expert sword fighter?'" Gaius quoted, tipping his head expectantly.

Merlin tugged at his neckerchief. "Erm... ahem, yes. Yes I did," he agreed.

"Well?" Gaius prompted.

"I may have used time manipulation to defeat three bandits at once," Merlin said casually as possible. "...In front of Arthur," he added as an afterthought.

"And I suppose Arthur didn't notice when your eyes began to glow," Gaius said in disbelief at his ward's stupidity.

"Of course not!" Merlin replied, miffed. "I made it rain first."

"Oh, you made it _rain_ first," Gaius repeated, giving Merlin a look.

"What? It worked, didn't it?" Merlin said.

"Yes, but now Arthur is going to think that you're a competent weapons user," Gaius said.

"I'm not that bad!" Merlin protested. Gaius raised his eyebrow. Merlin sighed and waved his hand. "Nevermind. Besides, my eyes are the least of my worries. What if I use magic like that again and turn out to be _too_ good? When the bandits attacked, Arthur was too occupied to watch me closely. What if I try something like that again he realizes that I'm moving too fast for any normal man?"

Gaius lifted his head. "Then I suppose you're going to have to convince him that what he saw was an anomaly," he advised firmly.

Merlin shuffled his feet. "He's already challenged me to a match of free combat," he said with a sigh.

"What?"

"If I can't last longer than thirty seconds, he's going have Gilroy put me on table-clearing duty for a month," Merlin said with a tight smile.

Gaius smiled sympathetically. "Well, I'm sure you'll manage," he said with certainty, giving Merlin a look that made the warlock think the physician was glad he was going to have to face some sort of consequences for his rash actions.

"Are you kidding me?" Merlin asked, raising his eyebrows incredulously. "I've barely given Collin and Erin any training – and that has to include both magical and practical training. I want them to know Camelot inside-out."

"And you do?" Gaius asked skeptically. Merlin hadn't been here for more than three months.

"I know it inside-out and upside-down," Merlin emphasized. He really _did_ know the castle upside-down. That wasn't an exaggeration. He'd spent a week walking on the ceilings – mostly for fun, but he'd also managed to put up some nice protective wards in the process. Arthur had gotten a crick in his neck from having to shout up at him every time he wanted to talk.

"Since when have you had time to explore the castle?" Gaius asked.

"Just being a servant helps with that," Merlin said. Gaius may have been the court physician, but he'd never had to carry a tray through a crowded hallway. He'd never been imbued with the desire to search for a deserted corridor where the risk of spilling all of your master's food was considerably less. Spills required backtracking to the kitchen and meant a scolding (and possibly extra chores) for being late.

"Sounds as though you'll have to start budgeting your time," Gaius warned.

"I do budget my time," Merlin defended.

"And spending an hour turning your walls different colors constitutes as...?"

"It's rejuvenating," Merlin retorted.

"Ah," Gaius said with a smile.

"Considering all the stress I'm under, I need some rejuvenating activities," Merlin said. "Do you realize that I'm going to have to set up my rescue system in about five other areas?"

Gaius narrowed his eyes. "No. You failed to mention that particular detail," Gaius said tiredly.

Merlin paused, realizing that Gaius really hadn't been privileged to hear any of Merlin's plans for Camelot. A sliver of guilt tugged at his chest. "Sorry, I'll try to keep you more updated from now on," Merlin apologized.

"It might save an old man's heart," Gaius said with a sigh.

Merlin shrugged sheepishly. "I'll tell you over supper," he vowed.

"I'd hope so," Gaius said. "Now, shoo! Off to bed before you fall over."

Merlin stopped swaying on his feet and smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Gaius. Good night!"

Gaius snorted. "And a good morning to you too!"

O o O

Merlin woke up around midday, feeling oddly heavy. It was as though gravity had taken over his body, forcing him to sink further into his mattress. The sensation was about as tranquillizing as a kitchen fire on a snowy, winter's night. He realized with his half-functioning brain that if he closed his eyes again, he probably wouldn't wake up again for another three hours.

Sighing as his consciousness produced a list of things he needed to accomplish before Arthur got back, Merlin grudgingly pushed away the scratchy, brown blanket, and hauled himself upwards.

As he dressed, he absentmindedly pried up the floorboards and pulled out the small bag of coins that comprised of his life savings.

Maybe he was still slightly out of it, but the warlock held the small deerskin pouch in front of his face, staring in alarm at the dismal weight of the coins tugging against his hands. He knew for a fact there weren't any gold pieces, but he was more worried about his realization that he'd run out of silver as well. This was the first time since getting sent to the past that Merlin fully appreciated how poor he'd once been. How poor he was at the moment.

He'd been planning to go to the market today (he needed supplies for some of the communication charms he was going to make) but he realized with a feeling similar to being punched in the gut that he might not be able to afford everything.

As court sorcerer and as the king's best friend, he'd had a near limitless amount of resources at his disposal. A dozen warhorses? Done. (Not that he could remember ever _needing_ a dozen horses at once, but if he ever did...) Now it was dawning on him just how comfortable he'd grown with being able to traipse through Camelot and purchase everything he needed without a second thought. When had scrimping and saving become a necessity of the past? When had he lost the habit his mother had drilled into him since he was little?

Between the amulet pieces, the new shirt, and the food he bought for his picnics with Gwen, Merlin realized that his savings had diminished to a disturbing low point.

With a sigh, he tied the skimpy bag to his make-shift belt and shoved on his boots, determined to make the best of it.

O o O

Passing the stables on his certified shortcut to the lower town, Merlin rounded a corner and stopped humming almost immediately. The scene that greeted him was a familiar one, but not one that he appreciated.

"C'mon, you little worm!" Sir Borin shouted at his squire. "Move faster."

Merlin felt blood rush to his ears as he watched. He forced himself to count backwards from ten, slowly, and pushed the bout of annoyance back into the corners of his mind. He could not afford to lose his temper.

Sir Borin raised his throwing knife. Merlin winced as he released it, already knowing that the knife was barely going to make it. It landed on the rim of the target with a dull thud.

Borin and the other knights around him crowed in adulation.

Merlin clenched his teeth. These were the newest batch of knights – the ones that had been hanging out with Arthur when he first met Merlin. Over time, most of these men would gain a sense of honor and maturity, but it obviously wasn't today.

He supposed he couldn't blame them entirely. Their role-model, Prince Arthur, had shown them this trick. They had no reason to not copy it for their own purposes.

_Still, they should know better_, Merlin decided lividly when Wayne let out a small squeal as the knife missed the target and brushed past the teenager's ear.

"He sounds like a little piggy!" Sir Tanimir cried delightedly. Some of the other knights made pig noises.

Merlin would have rolled his eyes if the situation weren't so serious. At this rate, they could seriously injure the young teen.

"C'mon! Zig-zag, boy!" Borin ordered harshly, lifting another knife.

Wayne bit his lip as he tried to pick up the pace.

"You're doing it wrong," a familiar voice called out.

Borin almost lowered his knife as everyone turned their heads in the direction of the interruption.

It was Arthur's manservant, the cocky, buffoon fellow. The one who thought he was so great just because he's been honored with such a high position in the royal household. Until now, they'd left him alone because he'd been given the position by the king himself. But if he placed himself in their hands... Borin smirked in anticipation.

The lanky servant was strutting into the mini arena they'd formed. There was an easy expression on his face, but if they had caught a look at his eyes, they might have seen the black thunder behind them.

"You're doing it wrong," he repeated. But to their surprise, they found he was talking to Wayne, not them.

Merlin took the shield from the startled teenager, and gestured for the boy to go stand on the outskirts. The other knights cocked their heads and shifted their feet warily. What was going on?

Merlin turned to face them, his lips still upturned in a slight smile. He met Borin's eyes and the man froze for a second, his instincts screaming at him to run. But after a nervous split-second, the knight scowled and shook off the ridiculous feeling. This was _Merlin_. The servant who tripped over everything in sight. The man who'd made a fool out of their prince and got away with it. The idiot who'd offered himself to them as a plaything. The man who was going to pay.

Sir Borin raised his knife tauntingly. "Come to play, little man?" he asked.

Merlin didn't bother to point out that he was actually taller than Borin and instead lifted the wooden target. "I'm not playing."

Borin growled.

The other knights, and the lone squire on the side, looked between the two men warily. Merlin was Arthur's manservant. Technically, the prince should be the one divvying out Merlin's punishments. It was hard to guess how Arthur would react to another knight tormenting the servant.

Who knows, some of them thought. Maybe Arthur would encourage it.

"Run, then!" Borin ordered menacingly.

The first thunk landed close to the center of the board. Borin whooped enthusiastically. The other knights couldn't help but join in. Merlin ran to the right.

_Thunk_.

The knife hit the board hilt-first, causing it to drop uselessly to the ground.

Disgruntled, Borin threw another knife. This time it hit the board.

The young knight cheered for himself, the other knights whooping somewhat less enthusiastically than they had before. He'd only hit the outer ring again. For some reason, when it was Merlin running the target, such a feat wasn't as impressive.

Maybe it was because when Arthur and Merlin did this exercise, Arthur always hit dead center.

"Faster!" Borin yelled, frustrated by the lack of support.

Merlin complied.

_Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!_

The young knight hit the board in fast succession, one knife after another. Borin smiled in appreciation as the former adulation came back with each strike. His friends were hooting and pounding him on the back.

A grin plastered on his face, and a wicked gleam in his eye, Borin raised his knife, shouting, "Keeping running, bean pole!" and released. As soon as he did so, every knight stiffened in horror, including Borin, who's eyes widened as he watched the path of the spinning knife.

All of them had watched and done enough knife-throwing themselves to know that Borin had just made a fatal mistake. The path it led to was unmistakable. And by the look in Merlin's eyes, he knew it too.

It was fruitless to hope that the servant would have the reflexes to move the shield.

Merlin was good as dead.

Borin was horrified.

The knife seemed to whirl in slow motion as it neared the accidental target.

Borin's mouth opened in a yell.

Merlin eyed the man and almost felt sorry for him. Almost. Then he had to do his best not to laugh at their expressions as he plucked the knife out of the air, grasping the hilt just two inches in front of his eyes.

Everyone stared. Wayne gulped with the realization that that could have been him. And there was no way that he would've been able to do what Merlin had just done.

Slowly, Merlin set down the shield, which now resembled a large porcupine, and placed the offending knife on top of it.

"Arthur only lets servants run around with the target because he knows he isn't going to miss," Merlin informed the group. His voice wasn't kind, but it wasn't harsh either. He didn't want Borin to be completely humiliated (poor Wayne would pay if Merlin did something like that).

Sir Borin clenched his jaw..

"You are very good, though, all things considering," Merlin told him honestly. "Much better than me anyways."

The knights were still too shocked to reply

"You _caught_ the knife," Wayne finally burst out, his voice a hoarse whisper.

Merlin shrugged. "Survival instincts, I suppose," he said. Mostly he was just glad that the sun's reflection easily made up for the flash of gold that filled his eyes.

Wayne looked at him disbelievingly.

"Got to dash," Merlin told them. "Errands to run before his highness returns." Then, with a nod more than a bow, the warlock dismissed himself, turned on his heels, and jogged around the stable corners. One of the knights may have called after him, but he'd pretended to be too far away to hear.

Merlin easily found the side exit that would lead him straight to his goal, feeling slightly put out. That incident was very likely going to come back to bite him in the rear. Noblemen rarely let a humiliation go unpunished.

O o O

"Gwen!" Merlin called, running to catch up with the dark-skinned girl before she entered her house. He'd spent the last three hours haggling with tradesmen, an occupation he rather despised. Some real conversation would be a welcome break.

Gwen turned and smiled at him in greeting. Then her expression faltered.

Merlin realized with a jolt that this was their first time meeting since he'd had to explain his magic to her.

"How are you?" he asked, concerned, approaching her.

"I'm all right," she said, unconvincingly.

"Really?" he asked. "I'm surprised you aren't complaining about nightmares."

He said it in jest, but his eyes widened when she paled slightly.

"_Nightmares_, Gwen?" he asked, stepping closer so he could examine her face, hidden by the shadows of her thatched roof.

Gwen bit her lip, obviously embarrassed. "I'm sure it was only a one time thing," she said, as though she were trying to reassure herself.

"I hope so," Merlin said honestly. "Was it about yesterday?"

Gwen nodded stiffly, nervously eying the crowd of people moving past them.

"What about?" Merlin asked, looking Gwen in the eye. He ignored the crowd. He'd learned long ago that crowds were some of the safest places for secret-sharing. (They were_ usually_ safe, he corrected himself, an unwelcome memory reminding him of exceptions.)

Gwen nibbled on her bottom lip.

"I'm not going to be offended," Merlin promised her. "Magic isn't-"

"Not here," Gwen pleaded desperately, grabbing his arm and dragging him though the door.

When she'd reassured herself by shutting out the crowd, Gwen turned to face him and scolded, "You can't do that in the market!"

"All right, all right," Merlin agreed quickly, before she could lecture him.

Gwen sighed in exasperation.

Merlin leaned against the door. "So, now that we're inside... what was your dream about?"

Gwen fidgeted, looking uncomfortable.

"Was it about magic?" Merlin asked.

Gwen's embarrassed reaction was the only confirmation he needed.

"Like I said, I won't be offended over something like _that_," Merlin promised. "Even I have nightmares about magic sometimes."

"Really?" She seemed relieved. Merlin nodded down at her, and didn't bother to tell her that most of his nightmares were of himself.

"Just tell me if they continue," Merlin said, placing a hand on her shoulder to reiterate his order. "The Isle of the Blessed is infused with magic – it's very likely that bits of unraveled spells have latched onto you."

Guinevere widened her eyes. "Could it be... doing something to me?" she asked.

"No," Merlin said, taking his hand off her shoulder. "Most of them probably drifted off on their own. But just in case..."

"I'll tell you," she immediately promised.

"Good," he said firmly. "So besides that, how has your day been so far?"

"Normal," she answered with quirked lips.

Merlin chuckled.

"It's strange," she said. "It makes it seem as though yesterday never really happened."

"I know the feeling," Merlin said wryly, remembering all the times in the early days when he'd have to sneak around all night battling monsters, then get back and pretend as though he hadn't been doing anything more exciting than washing Arthur's socks.

"And you have the day off today," Gwen said, smiling at him.

"I spent most of it sleeping," Merlin said.

"I'm not surprised, after what you went through," Gwen said.

"Yes, it was an unpleasant experience," Merlin agreed, reminiscing.

"But you're better now, aren't you?" Gwen questioned. She narrowed his eyes when he failed to agree with her. "Aren't you?"

"I still have a slight headache," Merlin said, smiling sheepishly.

"Is it really just a 'slight headache?'" she badgered, folding her arms.

"Yes, really," he assured her with an eye roll.

"I hope so," Gwen said, clicking her tongue.

"What have you got left to do?" Merlin asked, changing the subject.

"Just some mending," she said, pointing to a pile of clothes on her bed. "Father and I's – not milady's. Compared to Arthur, Morgana hardly gives me any chores at all."

Merlin smiled. "Well, Morgana doesn't have any armor to clean, and she probably doesn't track in mud all over the floors _or _fling her clothes in every which direction. So I'd have to say, that yes, shes' probably easier," he agreed.

Gwen laughed.

"Then again..." he added slyly, snapping his fingers, "I don't even really have to be there to do my chores."

Gwen raised her eyebrows. Merlin grinned and nodded in the direction of her bed. Gwen whirled around and gasped, covering her mouth before she could manage a full-on shriek.

Merlin bit his lip, attempting to hold in a laugh. Her dresses were currently bobbing through the air, mending themselves. The glint of the needle was oddly hypnotic, disappearing and reappearing into the clothe, a trail of blue tread following behind it.

"Merlin!" Gwen finally breathed out, smacking his arm.

"Cheating, I know," he said, folding his arms, watching his handiwork.

"Put it down," she scolded in a low voice. "What if my father walked in?"

"But it's almost done!" Merlin pouted, gesturing at the shuddering clothes.

"I don't care," she hissed, smacking him again. "Make them stop."

Merlin sighed. "All right then," he said regretfully. His eyes flashed and the clothes fell lifelessly to the bed.

Gwen sagged in obvious relief.

Merlin noticed.

"Too soon?" he asked in a small voice.

Gwen bit her lip. "Maybe a little," she admitted quietly.

"But... do you believe me when I say that magic isn't evil?" Merlin asked. He hoped the crack in his voice hadn't made him sound desperate. He wasn't.

Gwen nodded slowly, smiling at him. "You have a good heart, Merlin," she said. "I don't think that you would ever use something that was evil."

Merlin smiled appreciatively, ignoring the prods of guilty memories threatening to prosecute him.

"But it will take me some time to get used to it," Gwen shifted uncomfortably.

Merlin nodded. "Don't worry about it," he told her. "I know many people... _many_ people who wouldn't have so accepting," he said.

Gwen's heart reached out to her wistful friend. "Oh, Merlin," she consoled.

Merlin waved away her concern. "I'm used to it by now," he said. Merlin took a step back, moving towards the exit. "So, you'll tell me if you have anymore nightmares, and I guess... just... have a _great_ day."

"Are you in a hurry to be somewhere?" Gwen asked, frowning, watching him back away from her.

Merlin paused. He lowered the hand that had been reaching out to grab the door handle.

"Not really..." he said slowly.

Gwen looked at the floor, embarrassed. "I didn't mean to stop you," she said hurriedly. "I'm just making sure you're not leaving because of me."

"What?" Merlin asked, confused.

"I mean, I got kind of snippy about the mending so..." she trailed off, biting her lip.

"What? No!" he exclaimed. "I just thought we were done talking, is all. Do you have anything else you want to-"

"Oh, no!" she said, waving her hands in denial. "I'm fine. You can go."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes, positive," she assured him.

Merlin gave her a quirky smile before opening the door. "Okay, then. See you later?"

"Of course," Gwen said, waving. "Good-bye!"

She saw Merlin send her a small wave back before she closed the door with a profound sense of relief.

_Well that was awkward_, they thought at the same time.

Now back in her comfort zone, Gwen leaned her head against the cool wood, glad it had been too dark for Merlin to see her flushed cheeks.

Standing in front of her small house, Merlin grimaced. He'd hoped that Gwen had stopped fancying him after the magic reveal. Apparently not.

O o O

"You're back earlier than I expected," Gaius commented as Merlin cleared the table.

"Turns out I don't have much money left," Merlin said matter-of-factly, moving a tray of sample tinctures.

Gaius raised his eyebrows. "What exactly have you been spending it all on?" he asked incredulously. "The price of your meals are taken from your wages and you don't have to pay for a room."

"I've gone on too many picnics," Merlin said dully.

Gaius snorted. "You know, that might be one of the reasons Gwen fancies you, Merlin. Most men don't spend that much on a girl, even one they like," he informed.

"Gwen helps pay for them too," Merlin countered, pulling hard-earned materials out of his satchel. "Besides, it wasn't all picnics."

Gaius walked over to the table, his forehead crinkling as he saw what Merlin was setting out.

"What's all this?" Gaius asked.

Merlin put down another leather strip. "I'm going to be doing some leather working," he explained.

"Whatever for?" Gaius asked, moving around the table so he could stand next to Merlin.

"Short-range communication tools," Merlin said. The bench's legs screeched against the floor as it was pulled out in order to accommodate his long legs. "I'm making belts for Collin, Erin, and I. They aren't skilled enough mind-speak with anyone they aren't looking at, so I'm going to amplify their powers so we can communicate from anywhere in the castle. I was _going_ to make more, just in case, but my funds have given out on me, I'm afraid."

Gaius frowned, looking up and down the table, now littered with needles, oddly-shaped knives, awls, and several strips of thick leather.

"And are you going to be doing this on my supper table, Merlin?" Gaius asked, raising an eyebrow.

Merlin paused, trying to interpret the physician's tone. "Erm... yes?" he said, sounding unsure.

"What if someone walks in?" Gaius asked incredulously.

"They'll wonder at my amazing talents," Merlin said decidedly. Gaius gave him a look. "Please," Merlin snorted, "it's not like they're going to catch me using magic. Most of this is grunt work anyways."

"I hope so," Gaius said honestly.

Merlin smiled slightly and grabbed a small tool, pulling a strip of leather so he could work with it. This was going to be real leather working, but with shortcuts. Magic could make up for any heat he needed.

"Why do you need a belt?" Gaius asked curiously. He was fairly certain that Merlin would have no trouble with mind communication, if his blunt show of magical talent was anything to go by.

"Because the other belts will be focused on this one," Merlin said, tapping the leather. "It wouldn't do for _everyone_ with magic to be able to hear our conversations."

"Ah," Gaius voiced his understanding.

Merlin smiled slightly as began marking the leather for cuts.

"Since we're both here," Gaius said finally, after a moment of contemplation. "Why don't you tell me what exactly you're planning?"

"Sounds good," Merlin agreed. He gestured for Gaius to take a seat, then sent a fleeting glance at the door, his eyes lighting on fire.

"What did you just do?" Gaius asked curiously.

"Something to warn me if anyone get's close," Merlin said.

Gaius positioned himself across from Merlin, watching with interest as his ward pulled and prodded at the leather.

"Have you worked with leather before?" Gaius asked.

"Hm? Oh, yes. I suppose I've done enough to be familiar with it," Merlin commented absently. "Leather may not be able to hold focus spells for longer than a year, but I still like using it."

"I see," Gaius trailed off suspiciously. Hunith had never mentioned Merlin's penchant for leather working.

"Oh, Gaius... may I borrow your whetstone?" Merlin asked, looking up from his work.

"It's in the cupboard," Gaius sighed, gesturing.

Without a pause, the cupboard doors flew open and the small stone flew out, dipped itself in a pitcher of water on the way over, and plopped itself in front of Merlin.

Gaius sighed again, and could only watch in mild disapproval as one of the knives slowly rose into the air and began sharpening itself.

"Merlin..." he trailed off warningly.

"I've put a trip ward in the hallway, Gaius," the warlock reminded, the scraping sound of metal against stone accompanying his voice.

Gaius frowned, but couldn't dispute Merlin's logic.

"So Merlin, this elusive scheme I keep hearing about..." Gaius prompted.

Merlin carefully punched a hole in the material. When he was done, he looked up. "Right. Where should I start?"

"It's your plan, Merlin," Gaius pointed out.

Merlin pursed his lips as he thought through his entire scheme. "Say that someone is arrested for sorcery," he began slowly. "Uther's going to have them executed, and there's absolutely no way to have them released."

Gaius could recall very few occasions where the condemned had ever been discharged – not after they'd been accused of magic.

"Sometime at night, Collin and Erin will go down to the dungeons, put the guards to sleep, then release the prisoner."

"I don't particularly like where this is going," Gaius commented with a frown.

Merlin grinned. "It wouldn't be a proper plan if you weren't skeptical of it," he observed. Gaius raised his eyebrows. "So, after the prisoners been released, they'll be offered several choices. Either they can lend their services to Lord Reyard or they can live with the druids. If they want to fend for themselves, we won't stop them, other than make sure that they'll never show their face in Camelot again."

"Lord Reynard is offering to take in even more people?" Gaius asked incredulously. "The man just lost miles of farmland – he already has enough starving people on his hands."

"Erm... I may have offered some magical help where his harvests are concerned," Merlin explained, smiling weakly.

"Meddling with nature?" Gaius asked, frowning. "I hope you aren't think of manipulating the weather to-"

"No!" Merlin refuted immediately. "No. No. No. The thunderstorms are bad enough. I've probably created miniature droughts on the continent somewhere."

"Then what will you be doing?" Gaius asked curiously, glad that his ward understood the consequences of upsetting the natural flow of weather patterns.

"Increasing the mineral content of the soil," Merlin said, his voice raised excitedly. "Did you know that there are specific, tiny particles in rocks and decomposing nature that help plants grow? _That's_ why manure works so well. All you have to do is find exactly the right particles and incorporate them into your crop soil. You're practically feeding the plants. They _eat_, Gaius! Just through their roots instead! Did you know that they take water, sunlight, and air particles and make _sugar_ out of them? That's what we're eating when we pick them! Isn't that brilliant? I heard that humans can synthesize particles too, sort of, in a different way, but we don't really use sunlight all that well... Oh! And apparently, sorcerers – at least the powerful ones – can do the same thing with _magic_. That's why I don't need to eat as much as most people, even if having an empty stomach _is_ ridiculously uncomfortable."

Gaius stared at his ward in awe. What was the lad babbling about now? Particles? Sugar? Eating the sun?

Merlin stared into the distance for a moment, reveling in the wonders of the earth. He'd been shown that this world could be split into even tinier worlds, worlds that kept getting smaller and smaller until they couldn't even be seen with magic. And it worked together so _perfectly_. Nature really was brilliant.

Gaius coughed and Merlin was jolted out of his reverie.

"Oh, and I'm giving him the layouts for a water wheel too."

Gaius looked at him blankly.

"It's for grinding wheat," Merlin clarified. Sometimes the best way to make progress was to travel. Some of the buildings he'd toured on the continent made Camelot's castle look like a stone hovel. It certainly wouldn't hurt to improve things around here by borrowing a few ideas.

"Where have you acquired all of this information?" Gaius asked.

"I learned about fertilizers from traders from Francia," Merlin immediately answered. More specifically, they had been Francian sorcerers who had traveled for months simply for the privilege of speaking to Emrys, but there was no need to tell Gaius _that_.

"From Francia," Gauis repeated skeptically.

Merlin shrugged. "They had an odd accent, but they spoke British well enough."

"What were they doing in Essetir?" Gaius asked incredulously.

"Sightseeing," Merlin answered honestly enough, if observing people counted.

Gaius didn't want to think of Merlin as a liar, but his stories were becoming ridiculous. No Francian had any reason whatsoever to come as far north as Britain, and had even less reasons to stop in a village as small as Ealdor.

"But we're digressing from the point," Merlin said, remembering that he was supposed to be focusing on making belts. As he looked down, he barely missed the saddened expression his guardian was sending him. "After we explain the situation to the condemned, and discover whether they have any family that will want to come with them, we'll cut off a lock of their hair. If they're one of those people who don't actually have magic, then we'll get them straight to Lyonel and Eythesia, who will be waiting just outside of Camelot to take them to the druid camp until proper traveling arrangements can be made.

"And if they don't have magic, either Collin or Erin will stay behind put on an amulet in their place... have I shown those to you yet?" Merlin asked suddenly. When Gauis sighed he said, "Oh, remind me to, won't you? They will not only disguise the wearer as prisoner, but it will protect them from most physical harm, and it will carry out the illusion of whatever death Uther sentences."

"Even the pyre?" Gaius asked, his eyes widening.

Merlin flinched. "Even the pyre," he said quietly. When he'd demonstrated it for Iseldir, the druid leader had almost forbidden the project because of its inherently violent properties. Collin and Erin had definitely been a little green around the gills, almost to the point of throwing up.

"It makes smoke screen so it's harder to tell it's not actually happening," Merlin tried to remain cheerful.

"But it still looks as though someone is burning," Gaius concluded flatly.

Merlin sighed. "Yes," he conceded. "It is certainly realistic enough." And unfortunately, most of the realism was drawn from Merlin's own, harrowing memories.

"But what will happen when it's time to remove the body?" Gaius asked. "Or... whatever's left of a body?"

"They'll think they're carrying a body," Merlin answered, smiling grimly. "And they'll also feel oddly compelled to leave it alone instead of burying it."

What gruesome business.

"Will the amulet-wearer have to act out the dying?" the physician asked.

"Avalon, no!" Merlin exclaimed. "I doubt anyone would be able to portray it realistically enough."

Gaius sighed in relief.

"And after all that," Merlin said, "Uther will have no reason to send his knights out on a witch-hunt. As far as the king is concerned, that person is dead."

Gaius sat back, watching his ward go back to the once-again forgotten leather work.

"There are too many ways for this to go wrong," Gaius said finally.

"There's no such thing as a plan that's fool-proof," Merlin answered from experience.

Gaius was not reassured. "The best-laid plans are simple, not full of complicated holes," the physician scolded.

"It's for my personal entertainment, then," Merlin said with an grim smile. "I'm beating Uther at his own game."

Gaius frowned at the boy's immaturity. "Merlin, these druids are risking their lives for you," he said emphatically. "You cannot take it lightly."

"They know the risks," Merlin said stiffly.

"But what if they get caught?" Gaius asked. "Their entire communities could be wiped out."

"If it comes to that, I'll reveal myself to Uther," Merlin said solemnly.

"Merlin!" Gaius exclaimed.

"Working for Arthur is more a convenient hobby – yes, I know I complain about it all the time – and if I have to abandon it to protect the people under my care, then I will do so," Merlin said.

"But Merlin-"

"I mean what I said. And if Uther declares war on me, I'll set the goblin on him, but this time I'll make sure he grows grass for hair," Merlin said with complete seriousness.

"Goblins?" Gaius inquired.

"_With_ a daisy," Merlin added emphatically. "And _no_ hats."

"Are you talking about the king?" Gaius asked incredulously.

"Yes, I am," Merlin said. "If he wants to humiliate himself by challenging me, then he can be my guest."

Gaius frowned. "I understand that you don't have a great love for Uther," he said, ignoring Merlin's juvenile snort, "but playing childish pranks on the man will only make him more angry. You'd be setting hell's fury against you."

Merlin raised his eyebrows. "What? He'll throw a few knights at me?" he scoffed. "Accuse me to death?"

Gaius's forehead crinkled as he solemnly considered the boy in front of him. "He just may," he reminded, his eyes glinting. "You may be powerful, but not even you can withstand the entire might of Camelot if it is combined against you. When Uther realizes that you're untouchable, he will look for the people you care about, people who are much more vulnerable than you are. You can't be in more than one place at a time. What of your mother?"

Merlin sighed. "Gaius..." he said quietly, "How powerful do you think I am?"

Gaius closed his eyes briefly.

"Merlin, you are the most powerful warlock this world has ever known," the tired physician finally answered. "Or at least you _will_ be."

Merlin smiled wistfully.

"," the warlock said in the quietest voice he could manage. Gaius probably missed the small admonition.

Then he continued, sounding much more upbeat, "Then again, all of this is purely hypothetical."

Gaius sighed. "Hypothetical, indeed."

O o O

Gaius spent the rest of the evening nit-picking at Merlin's plan, while the warlock tried to pacify the physician with logical responses. Eventually Gaius had to admit that Merlin had convincingly thought through every likely (and even unlikely) scenario. The old man was unwittingly impressed by Merlin's cleverness, but the warlock didn't feel as though he deserved any praise. The rescue procedure wasn't a fancy idea that had popped into his head one day. It was the compilation of the last eighteen years of his life. Ever since magic had been legalized, Merlin spent his darkest nights beating himself up over some of the decisions he'd made as Arthur's manservant. Hindsight was a dangerous tool, and it was often Merlin's greatest tormentor.

One of his biggest mistakes, he feared, was his passivity in situations where he could have made a positive difference if he'd gotten involved. Morgana for instance; what if he'd offered the comfort she deserved when she was scared and alone? What of all the innocent victims of Uther's fire? Sure, he'd rescued Mordred, but why hadn't he tried to save Mordred's father? How much anguish could he have spared himself with that simple act alone?

It was in the hours where he scoured his memories that he reviewed the choices he should have made – the magic he should have used. Admittedly, he wouldn't have had the knowledge required for most of the schemes he thought out, but he did now, and he fully intended to put that knowledge to good use.

Maybe that's why it was taking him so long to get home.

Maybe he was trying to give himself a second chance.

At some point during his conversation with Gaius, two injured squires were tossed into the physician's chambers for injuries sustained during a brawl. Realizing that it was probably going to take Gaius a while to get them sorted out, Merlin retreated into the sanctuary of his room.

The indulged solitude didn't last for more than an hour.

"Arthur's here, Gaius! Got to dash!" Merlin yelled as he flung himself out of his room.

Gaius's heart nearly jumped out of his chest.

"Merlin! Did finish the belts?" Gaius shouted after the precipitate youth.

"Only one!" Merlin called back. "But the other'll probably be done before I go to sleep!"

Gaius frowned and was about to ask just him whether he wanted something to eat, but the pounding footsteps of Merlin's boots were already receding into the distance.

O o O

"Arthur!" Merlin exclaimed as he entered the prince's room.

"What took you so long?" the prince complained, pulling out a chair so he could sit down. "I'm famished!"

"_I_ had to put your horse away because Tyr is sick," Merlin explained, setting out Arthur's supper.

"Who?"

Merlin gave Arthur a look. "Your stable boy," he reminded incredulously. Considering the boy's unnecessary murder in the future, he felt even more obligated to make sure Arthur remembered his name. "Tyr Seward?"

"Oh, right," Arthur said absently.

"Anyways," Merlin said, shaking his head of Arthur's prattishness, "what's the story? I heard that it was... some sort of _animal_ attacking the villages?"

Arthur nodded, using a knife to cut apart the roast. "A giant, winged beast with..." he seemed to struggle with the idea of the next description, "...with the body of a _lion_ is how the villagers kept describing it," he related. "A monstrous creature. It took no livestock – only people."

"A griffon," Merlin identified immediately, flashbacks of a certain knight running through his head. Lancelot was alive.

"A what?" Arthur asked, wrinkling his nose.

"A magical creature that usually lives in the crags at the feet of the mountains," Merlin said absently, still thinking about Lancelot. Did that mean the man was making his way to Camelot already? "They usually feed on fish and and large mammals, but every once in a while, some idiotic hunter will stumble into a nest and the griffon will feel it has no choice but to defend what's rightfully his... Let's just say the hunter usually ends up as a stack of bones in the corner of the nest somewhere."

Arthur blinked. "It must have decided that humans are appetizing," he concluded smartly.

"I hear that we do have an addictive taste," Merlin agreed.

Arthur gave Merlin a disgusted look.

"Don't worry, sire, it will probably take one look at you and fly off to find something that won't make it sick to its stomach," Merlin said nobly.

"And it will use you as a toothpick," Arthur retorted.

"Ha, ha," Merlin laughed dryly.

"So, Merlin," Arthur said, taking a bite of his meal. "Are you ready to face me tomorrow?" he asked.

"Not that I have a choice," Merlin said, grimacing.

"No, you do not," Arthur agreed cheerfully.

"Need anything else?" Merlin asked.

Arthur thought a moment. "Besides my laundry done, bath drawn, floors scrubbed, and reports organized?"

"That last one's supposed to be your job," Merlin said dully, already planning to leave it alone.

"Well, no one else will ever have to know, will they?" Arthur asked with a smile.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "So besides that _miniscule_ list of chores, anything else?" he asked.

"Just to prepare my armor for tomorrow. I'm testing Grimmond for knighthood in the morning," Arthur said, a sigh in the undertone of his voice.

"Grimmond?" Merlin asked with bemusement. "But even _I_ can last longer against you than he can."

"You'd better hope so," Arthur said.

Merlin fiddled with the end of his neckerchief, a bemoaned expression on his face as he bowed and exited the room.

O o O

"Gaius!" Merlin yelled as he pushed open the physician's door.

"Calm down, Merlin," Gaius ordered, wincing as the warlock's voice echoed through the stone room. He'd already had enough shouting grace his chamber that day.

"I'm going to be gone all night," Merlin continued, ignoring the old man's stipulations.

Gaius raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because the creature that attacked Greenswood? It was a griffon," Merlin informed as he scoped the room for a quick meal.

"A griffon?" Gaius questioned, automatically pulling out the bowl of porridge he'd saved for his ward.

Merlin sighed in relief at the sight of the food.

"Head of an eagle, body of a lion?" Merlin hinted. No recognition shown in Gaius's eyes. "Oh, well, I'm want to leave before it reaches Willowdale. From what I heard in the stables, half of Greenswood was burned to the ground because the farmers tried to ward it off with fire."

Gaius handed Merlin a spoon. "How do you know it's headed towards Willowdale?"

"They say it was aiming south," Merlin replied, nodding his gratitude for the utensil. "Willowdale's next in line."

Gaius nodded slowly.

"Must you leave tonight, though?" Gaius asked. "The sun will be down in less than an hour. I'm afraid you won't do anyone much good in the dark."

Merlin quirked a smile. "Right... the dark," he said in a slow voice. He let out a quick release of magic and his porridge began to steam.

Gaius clucked his tongue, but Merlin didn't know if it was at the unnecessary use of magic or because of Merlin's sarcastic tones. "Have you ever even had any experiences with griffons before?" the physician asked, quite rightfully.

Merlin shrugged. The honest answer wouldn't really check out with his mother.

"If this creature is indeed a creature of the old religion, then it will be very difficult for even you to kill," Gaius warned.

Merlin tilted his head. "Gaius, somehow I think your logic is a tad bit off," he noted teasingly.

Gaius shook his head. "You should wait until the morning," he insisted.

"Sorry, Gaius," Merlin said, scraping the bottom of his bowl, "but I'm not going to let innocent people die if I have a chance to stop it."

"And I don't want _you_ to die doing something idiotic," Gaius said fiercely.

"Gaius, a griffon is about as threatening to me as a chicken – and somehow, I find chickens slightly more disturbing," Merlin said, making a face. He'd never had a favorable opinion of the brainless birds, knowing firsthand what it was like to have a headless chicken tearing after you as a three-year-old (it had probably been attracted to his magic), while he cried and wailed at it to stop following him.

Gaius looked skeptical. "You should wait until first light," he cautioned.

"I won't get back in time to wake Arthur," Merlin said, finishing off his supper. He stood up, giving the physician a slightly apologetic look. "If I want to get anything done, I need to leave now."

Gaius sighed.

"I thought you needed to finish the other belt?" the physician hinted.

Merlin smiled slightly at his guardian's persistence. "I do. But I doubt it will be needed right away," he said. "Bye, Gaius. I'll probably be back before sunrise."

Gaius pressed his lips together. Well, he had tried.

O o O

Merlin stood regretfully over the dead body of the griffon. Splayed across the forest floor like it was, the usually magnificent creature looked bedraggled and filthy – even worse was the smell emanating from the carcass.

Feeling slightly nauseous, Merlin stepped away from the tragic scene, his pale wizard lights trailing behind him. For obvious reasons, their dull light did nothing to brighten the situation like they usually did. In some ways, it only made the scene look more gruesome.

Even more dismaying was the sight to the east.

The sun was rising.

Needless to say, Merlin didn't even bother stopping to check in with Gaius before heading straight to the kitchens to grab Arthur's breakfast.

O o O

Arthur woke to the sound of a tray slamming against the table. He bolted upright, not entirely lucid, his dreams still interfering with reality. So the rose garden had finally decided to rebel, had it? He almost looked around for Morgana's battering ram.

Merlin's cheery "Well, _hello_, sire!" knocked him to full consciousness.

"_Mer_lin," he said crossly, pulling back the covers.

"Breakfast! And hurry up with it," Merlin ordered. "I'm late today and you've got to be down at the training field in thirty minutes. You're in charge of warm-ups before Grimmond's testing, remember?"

Arthur blinked and glanced over towards the his windows, where a fair amount of sunlight was filtering through. No wonder he felt so refreshed.

"Did I miss anything?" he asked, his feet hitting the floor as he stood. Funny how he trusted Merlin to know these things.

Merlin looked up from his table setting and raised his eyebrows. "Anything important? No," he said. "Nothing important at all."

Arthur finished stretching, then rubbed his hands together, ready for breakfast.

Then he stopped.

"Merlin?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes?" Merlin asked innocently, buttering a roll.

"You've set two places," Arthur said, glancing at the two sets of dishes Merlin had set out on the either side of the table, the other laid out opposite of Arthur's spot. His eyes widened in horror when he the only solution he could think of entered his head. "Morgana isn't coming, is she?"

Merlin looked amused by the idea.

"Of course not," he answered.

"Then who's eating with me?" Arthur asked, a list of knights and nobles running through his head, accompanied by the awkward reminder that he wasn't even wearing a shirt.

Merlin plopped down into a chair. "I am," he answered, reaching for a roll.

Arthur stared.

Merlin rolled his eyes and gestured for Arthur to sit down, his mouth full of bread.

Arthur didn't move.

_What?_

Merlin swallowed, licked his lips and said, his voice in a drawl, "I was late. That means I practically had to run here, and didn't get to eat breakfast," he said matter-of-factly. "So while I was in the kitchen, it dawned on me that it would just be easier if we ate at the same time."

"But you're eating _my_ food," Arthur spluttered, staring as a grape was popped into Merlin's mouth.

"I know," Merlin said, sounding delighted.

Arthur very nearly marched over there and pulled the grape out of Merlin's mouth with his own fingers. Then Merlin smiled at him, daring him to overreact.

Arthur balked. Then he huffed and silently plodded over to his own seat. There was no way he was going to let a mere servant get to him. No way. He gave Merlin another glance. The servant met his gaze and grinned, before throwing another grape into his mouth. He chewed slowly.

Arthur made a face then grabbed his own roll, one that Merlin had so neatly buttered, and began to eat in a brooding silence.

A silence that lasted for about three seconds.

"We should do this more often."

Arthur looked up from his plate and glared at Merlin, who was currently biting into a sausage, looking delighted.

"Absolutely not," Arthur said firmly, reached for his goblet.

Merlin laughed in response.

Arthur glared at his manservant. "I ought to sack you for pulling this. If Father were to walk in and see us like this..." he trailed off, grimacing at the thought.

"You can tell him you're teaching me basic table manners," Merlin answered with a full mouth.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Arthur declared. "Although I can't deny it would be a good idea," he continued, watching the crumbs tumble out of Merlin's mouth with minor disgust.

"It's called multitasking, Arthur – eating and talking at the same time," Merlin said. "We're in a hurry. So throw out manners and chew faster."

The next few minutes were spent in silence: Arthur brooding over his meal and Merlin reveling in the richness of the food – something he found he'd missed about his life back home.

"We are never doing this again," Arthur growled, throwing down his napkin.

"Agreed," Merlin said, pushing away the plate he'd cleared of food. "It was much too awkward."

"I only let you today because I felt sorry for you," Arthur justified.

"Why?" Merlin asked, briskly handing Arthur his clothes.

"Because I'm going to beat you to pulp," Arthur reminded, tearing off his trousers to replace them with clean ones.

O o O

Over the course of the rest of the morning, Merlin found himself slowly deteriorating.

His body kept trying to shut down on him. The bobbing head, the fluttering eyelashes, the worse-than-usual stumbling: they were all frustrating side affects that he hadn't anticipated. Apparently his younger body didn't cope as well with sleep deprivation as his older self. Probably because he hadn't finished growing yet. Merlin knew for a fact that he was an inch shorter than his regular height.

"Are you sure you're all right, my boy?" Gaius asked, concerned. In all honesty, he hadn't gotten much sleep himself, being woken from dreams every other hour of Merlin being mauled by giant, flying creatures.

"Well enough," Merlin replied wearily.

"Have something to eat," Gaius prompted, moving towards the cupboards to retrieve whatever food he might have stored away.

Merlin pulled himself away from the door frame that had been supporting his weight. "I already ate," he said with a slight smile. "Besides, Arthur thinks I'm in the armory right now. I only stopped in to inform you that I'm alive."

"Well thank you for that much at least," Gaius said dryly, closing the cupboard doors.

"I'll be in later," Merlin said, before slipping through the door and closing it quietly behind him.

Merlin made it back in time for Arthur to finish up with morning warm-ups.

"Ready?" Merlin asked sympathetically as he handed Arthur a second sword. Grimmond was waiting – he seemed to be practicing his growls.

Arthur sighed dramatically. "I'm going to finish him off in five seconds," he lamented.

Merlin smirked. "And so ends the era of Camelot's formidable reputation. Isn't he the third to fail this month?" he asked.

Arthur grunted noncommittally. He looked annoyed, but Merlin knew the frustration was directed more towards the squires than anything else.

"How am I supposed to defend Camelot with rubbish like that?" Arthur complained after a moment.

"Who knows, maybe he'll surprise you," Merlin suggested.

"Doubt it."

From the other side of the field, Grimmond like out another loud, "Aurgh!" as he hacked into a practice dummy.

"Yeah," Merlin agreed.

O o O

Merlin leaned up against the fence, acknowledging the fact that he might actually enjoy watching Arthur pummel people. As Arthur called Grimmond up, and Merlin watched with an amused grin as the prince held back a much needed eye-roll against the knight-in-training.

"Grimmond wasn't at the tavern with you last night, was he?" a stern voice asked a few arms' lengths away from Merlin. It was Leon.

Grimmond stood in front of Arthur, looking as menacing as the over-confident warrior could manage.

The younger man being addressed by the senior knight looked nervous as he answered. "Well... yes," and before Leon could scold him he hastily continued, "but he remained honorable! He did nothing but service for the reputation of Camelot's knights."

Leon's face was drawn into an expression of disapproval. "I'm not worried about the dishonor, I'm wondering whether his drinking would affect his chances today," he said pointedly.

The young knight bit his lip.

Leon sighed and watched as Grimmond was easily disarmed and knocked in unconsciousness.

The knight beside him groaned. "He's the third this month!" he cried in dismay as the small audience cheered for their prince.

"Next time a squire is petitioned for submission, leave the celebration until _after_ he's been knighted," Leon ordered.

The young man straightened and bowed. "Yes sir," he managed, looking sheepish.

"If it happens again, you will be put on probation. Hamish, was anyone else with you?" Leon asked.

Hamish looked uncomfortable as he gave Leon a list of knights.

"There was a strange bloke at the tavern last knight," Hamish said, trying to ease the tension.

"Was there indeed?" Leon asked, not sounding terribly interested. They watched as a squire and Grimmond's servant hoisted the man off the field to be taken to a shady patch by the tents.

"Some peasant who thought he'd come here to try out for knighthood." He waited for the senior knight to react. Merlin reacted. His spine straightened and he cocked his head so he could hear better.

Leon raised his eyebrows. "Really? Definitely not a nobleman?"

Hamish snorted. "Hardly."

Leon apparently found the news amusing enough to chuckle a bit. "I suppose he hasn't heard of the First Code of Camelot."

"You should have seen the look on his face when we told him," Hamish laughed. "Like a girl who'd lost her favorite doll."

Leon frowned. "You didn't behave in a way detrimental to the knight's code, did you?" he asked suspiciously.

Hamish shrugged off Leon's disapproval. "We didn't hassle him at all, if that's what you mean. Just taught the man his place."

Leon looked slightly appeased. "Good."

Merlin slumped, relieved. A man like Lancelot didn't deserve to have his dreams literally beat out of him by a pack of intoxicated nobleman. Maybe he would visit his friend later... Lancelot was probably feeling fairly let down, and Merlin felt he owed the man, considering everything he had done for the warlock.

Maybe after he took a nap.

O o O

"You there! Arthur's servant! Marvin!"

Merlin turned at the sound of his botched name, holding in a yawn. He _really_ needed to get some sleep.

"Yes?" he asked politely, staring warily at the teenager, who was flanked by two other boys, one of them being Wayne.

The squire who'd called his name wore a sneer on his face, and Merlin immediately wondered whether he should have ignored the shout.

"Wayne _told_ me a few things," the squire drawled. Wayne turned slightly red, and his eyes narrowed angrily. Merlin sighed inwardly. And here he'd been expecting trouble from Sir Borin. "He said, that for all your ineptitude, that you can actually _catch _throwing knives."

Merlin looked down at the teen, unamused. The warlock was taller than the whelp, over thrice his age, and outranked him in terms of both power and nobility (Emrys was a title, after all).

"But I don't believe him," the squire baited.

Beside him, Wayne growled, "He _did, _you imbecile. You'll see."

The group leader argued, "But he's just a _servant_. And every time we see him, he's tripping over his own feet." He mimed out what Merlin assumed was tripping, even though he looked more like someone who was throwing up their breakfast. The squire guffawed loudly, and the boy next to him laughed in the same demeaning manner.

Merlin wondered whether they actually thought it was funny, or if their knight training had gotten them gotten their brains bashed in one too many times.

He blinked at them, waiting for them to continue, but they stared at him expectantly.

"Is that all?" he asked, mimicking the same tone Uther used whenever Arthur suggested any peasant-friendly measures.

The squire – who's name Merlin still couldn't remember – cocked his head stupidly. "Prove it," he ordered.

"Prove what?" Merlin asked.

"That I wasn't wrong," Wayne jumped in, his voice cracking slightly. "I'm being accused of lying – an error I want to be amended."

"And how would you like me to do that?" Merlin asked indulgently, leaning against the spears he'd been carrying down to the armory.

"Catch one," the first squire said, and lifted his overcoat slightly. Merlin gaped, looking at the pouch of throwing knives the squire had just revealed.

Merlin twitched slightly, then regained control over himself. He asked slowly, "Are you sure that's the best idea?"

Obviously the boys thought it was, as they were all looking exceptionally pleased with themselves.

"C'mon then," their leader said. "Put down those spears and show us what you can do."

Merlin really didn't feel like doing this now.

"Sorry, but no thanks," the warlock said dryly. He swiveled on the balls his feet and began walking in the opposite direction.

The leader of the trio snickered and yelled after him, "Coward!" then preceded to taunt Wayne. "'Oh, Marvin's just _sooo_ marvelous! You should have seen him! He's just _amazing_ for a mere peasant!'"

"It's _Merlin_, you idiot," Wayne said, punching the older boy not so lightly in the arm. "And I did _not_ say that."

"Might as well have," Merlin heard the boy scoff. "Peasant-lover. Have a new hero, do you?"

There was a shout and Merlin turned to see Wayne as he laid a punch into the other teen's face. The third boy backed away, looking more excited than anything.

"Hey!" Merlin called out, gripping the spears tightly, resisting the urge to knock each of them over the head. He doubted the satisfying action would improve the mood, but it was one he couldn't help considering.

Wayne let down his defenses and received a bloody nose. The boy clenched his jaw and wiped the mess on his sleeve, looking ready to charge at his opponent.

All right, that did it. Merlin's eyes glowed and the floor beneath them slicked out, causing the two brawlers to land hard on their backsides. Both of their eyes widened in embarrassed shock.

Quite unintentionally, Merlin laughed. Loudly.

All three sets of eyes settled on the manservant.

"No fighting in the corridors!" Merlin called to them, still laughing as he turned away.

In his tired state, he failed to recognize that a knife was being thrown in his direction until after it hit the column next to him.

Merlin froze.

He turned slowly, his eyes dropping into a stormy blue as he realized that the oldest boy was already holding a second knife. A maniacal look crossed the squire's face.

"Did you just _laugh_ at us? Did you think that was _funny_?"


	19. The Long Week Part 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own_ Merlin._**

A/N: I'm sorry about the hiatus, there were so many reasons for it that I won't even try to explain. And as for the show's finale, it obviously never happened in this universe. Just assume that everyone who died in "The Diamond of the Day" didn't, and that the threat of Camlann is still hanging over Merlin's head.

Summary of story so far (I wouldn't blame you if you've forgotten):_ Merlin doesn't know what went wrong with his time-travel spell, so he needs to retrieve the book that he got the original spell from. He'll need a dragonlord, a necromancer, and some way to get months' worth of supplies for the journey. At the same time, he has worry about how much of an effect the changes he's making will have on his own universe. Most recently, Nimueh's attempt to kill Merlin failed, but Gwen discovered that Merlin has magic and still isn't entirely certain that she's comfortable with the fact. Arthur is trying to goad his manservant into showing the fighting skills he saw Merlin using against bandits (he'd been cheating), and has challenged him to a competition of free combat; Merlin has to last 30 seconds against him or he'll be put on clean-up duty on the dining hall for a month, which would interrupt the free time Merlin needs to perfect his underground rescue plan._

_The last chapter ended with a trio of squires baiting Merlin into catching a knife._

* * *

><p><em> Nobles and their pride<em>, Merlin thought scornfully, scowling at the boy threatening to throw the knife.

"I think you _will_ catch a knife," the squire decided, his eyes glinting. "The funny servant will do exactly as we ask, or pay the consequences." His voice had tiptoed into the higher notes, and suddenly Merlin had to wonder if the boy was entirely sane. As far as the warlock could tell, the idiot was going to end up dying in death combat over some stupid insult to his honor.

"I'd rather not," Merlin finally said evenly, struggling to keep himself from reverting into 'scolding parent mode'. As young as he looked, he would sound more ridiculous than threatening.

Something in the squire seemed to switch off as he reacted to Merlin's comment (_His intelligence, probably_, Merlin guessed) as he pulled his arm back and hurled the knife as hard as his could in Merlin's general direction.

He hadn't even stopped to aim.

Merlin and the other two squires could only watch incredulously as the knife streaked down the corridor (it missed Merlin by more than an arm's length). Merlin would have laughed at the sheer absurdity of the situation, but the emerging, bloodless expressions on the squires' faces made him falter. Just as he turned his head to glance behind him, a familiar, indignant shout echoed from down the hallway.

Merlin nearly dropped the spears as his blood ran cold.

Arthur... was hit?

Time slowed for him as his thoughts began to berate him for not paying more attention and cursing the griffon for his sleep deprivation along with his magic for not alerting him to the danger (he'd put up a blasted spell, for crying out loud). As dark emotions clawed through his heart, and as his magic sought a violent release for this unexpected turn of events, Merlin had to seriously wonder whether his sanity would remain intact when _his_ Arthur died.

Then the merciful sound of the knife clattering against the stone floors cut through Merlin's hoarse gasp of, "Arth-!"

Merlin nearly wilted in relief as his eyes met the bemused gaze of Arthur Pendragon, whose eyes were flickering incredulously between the knife that he'd nearly walked into, his wide-eyed manservant, and the three younger squires who were looking at him with unveiled horror (Wayne's nose was still dripping blood).

"Merlin!" Arthur finally exclaimed, because yelling at Merlin at least made the situation somewhat normal. "What the _hell_ is going on here?"

Merlin licked his lips and said softly, "Arthur."

Arthur clenched his jaw, looking extremely annoyed by the lack of response he was inspiring. "That's '_Sire_' to you, Merlin," he snapped. "That thing missed me by six inches! If I had turned the corner a second sooner-"

Six. Inches.

Merlin's hands began to shake and he tightened his grip on the spears. The action didn't steady him.

Arthur was stunned into silence by Merlin's quiet voice. "You are lucky to be alive." A cold chill ran up the prince's spine. He blinked owlishly at Merlin, frantically wracking his brains for a proper response to such a grim statement.

Then he realized with vague trepidation that Merlin wasn't looking at him.

His manservant was glaring at the three squires, whose expressions had transfigured from horrified to startled as they stared at the servant they had grossly underestimated.

Merlin seemed to be trembling slightly. His arms dropped to their sides.

The sound of the spears hitting the floor made the trio of squires flinch; even Arthur jumped slightly. One of the weapons rolled until it thumped against a pillar, then, creaking, it slowly tilted to its side before coming to a complete stop.

Before Arthur could open his mouth to scold his manservant for being a clumsy oaf in an effort to break the off-color silence, Merlin's nervous laughter beat him to the finish line.

"Sorry," the lanky servant apologized softly, looking at the ground. "It's just... Arthur, never do that again."

Arthur wrinkled his nose and was about to indignantly insist that he hadn't done _anything_, but Merlin (the shameless loudmouth), interrupted his thought process yet again.

"Don't," he said, "_scare_ me like that. Ever. I forbid you from getting into dangerous situations. Particularly when I'm sleep deprived."

"I nearly had a heart attack," Merlin added, and placed a hand on his chest to emphasize his point.

Arthur didn't even bother to hide the fact that his mouth had dropped open in a long 'O' shape, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"And _you_!" Merlin said, pointing a long finger at the oldest squire, his tone dropping harshly. "ARE YOU _MAD_? WE ARE IN A CORRIDOR! NOT A TARGET RANGE! _ANYONE_ COULD HAVE COME 'ROUND THAT CORNER! THE KING HIMSELF COULD HAVE COME AROUND THAT CORNER!"

Arthur stared at his manservant in shock. Was Merlin _ranting_ at a _noble_?

"But... the crown prince came around that corner," Merlin said, lowering his voice to a deadly calm. "And I cannot guarantee the safety of anyone who tries to kill Arthur Pendragon."

_I might have lost all rational hold of my magic if you had. You would have been lucky to survive. Collapsing corridors aren't easily avoided._

As these thoughts ran through Merlin's head, a hand grabbed his shoulder.

"Stop talking Merlin," Arthur ordered icily.

"You have a very mouthy manservant, my lord," the oldest squire tried to say smoothly, but the shiver in his voice betrayed his relief at the prince's intervention.

Arthur snorted, still staring his manservant incredulously. "I realize that," he said seriously. "Merlin, go muck out my stables. Right now, you imbecile."

Merlin took in a deep breath.

"Merlin," Arthur warned, adding a sharp jab to his tone.

"Yes, sire," Merlin said with a stiff bow.

It was decided, then. Merlin was going to beat Arthur during their sparring match this afternoon; forget the consequences.

As he walked away from the scene, Merlin heard Arthur snap, "Who threw the knife?"

"It wasn't our fault, my lord!" the oldest squire said vehemently. Arthur must have shot him a look because the boy's next words were more subdued. "Prince Arthur," his voice sounding slick and oiled, "I'm afraid that your manservant insulted our honor and provoked us into a fight."

The boy seemed confident in his allegation. Merlin rounded the corner and stepped out of sight, then quickly pressed himself against the wall to listen to the rest of the interrogation.

"I suppose Merlin was the one who bloodied Wayne's nose?"

The squire made a confused noise.

"Well?" Arthur asked impatiently.

"No," came the grudging response.

"I see," Arthur said. "What happened, then? Gavin?"

Merlin strained to hear their conversation, feeling proud of Arthur as he chastised the three squires without belittling them and causing a major dispute (Merlin tried not to resent the fact that insulting Merlin was his prime way of doing so).

"Merlin," Arthur's voice hissed.

Merlin opened his eyes and lifted his head from its resting position against the wall.

Ah, well, it wasn't the first time he'd fallen asleep while standing.

"Yes, sire?" Merlin asked innocently.

"What are you doing here?" Arthur snapped in a whisper, not wanting to risk any of the squires hearing. He'd just barely placated their anger against Merlin, and there the idiot was, standing around the corner as though he were trying to incite it again.

"Eavesdropping," Merlin said in a mock-whisper.

Arthur grabbed Merlin's arm and hauled him down the corridor, away from the scene of crime.

"I'm sending you to the stocks," the prince said.

"I wanted to know what you were saying," Merlin defended.

"Too bad," Arthur said without pity.

"They were being young and idiotic," Merlin said.

"So were you," the prince replied hotly. "Why didn't you just walk away?"

"They were throwing knives at me," Merlin pointed out.

"And then," Arthur said, ignoring Merlin, "you just had to go and threaten them, didn't you?"

"Only after you were nearly impaled," Merlin countered.

"Sometimes I wonder if you even remember that you're just a servant," Arthur said at the same time.

They looked at each other and scowled.

"I'm tired, all right?" Merlin said crossly, wrenching his arm out of Arthur's grasp.

"Oh, _you're_ tired," Arthur mocked, folding his arms.

"Yes, I'm tired," Merlin repeated, copying Arthur's stance. "Even lazy old me gets tired, Arthur. I just wasn't in the mood for being polite."

Arthur clenched his teeth in anger. "I don't care, Merlin," he finally managed. "You should have remembered your station and acted more respectfully towards them. Now I'm going to have to explain to three of my knights why their squires were brawling."

"And throwing knives at innocent castle workers," Merlin added.

Arthur growled in frustration. "You retaliated, Merlin!" he said.

"Barely," Merlin pointed out. "And considering what almost happened to you, I could have done a lot worse."

Arthur shot him a look. "Nevertheless, they're going to expect me to punish you," he said gravely.

Merlin huffed. "Fine, put me in the stocks for a day," he conceded. As a young man he might have argued against the injustice, but now was very aware of how pointless squabbling about it would be, having spent over a half a lifetime battling the proclaimed superiority of the noble classes. Most of them never learned.

Arthur was a special case.

The dragon had been right about that much.

"And that's what I'm doing," Arthur reminded scathingly, shoving Merlin further along the hallway.

"Hold off," Merlin said, turning around to face the prince. "What about your challenge?"

Arthur smiled evilly. "I'm sure we can fit it in."

Merlin scowled and marched down the corridor as he muttered, "Sometimes I hate you."

"That's treason, Merlin," Arthur pointed out dully.

"Sometimes I _really_ hate you," Merlin amended.

"Idiot," Arthur said, trying to sound stern.

"Prat," Merlin shot back.

"Dimwit."

"Dollophead."

"Not a real word," Arthur said automatically.

"It's idiomatic."

"You know I can keep you in there overnight," Arthur threatened.

Merlin shut his mouth and smiled.

O o O

"What're you doin' in 'ere?" Lady Percival's maidservant asked with amusement as she watched Merlin frantically trying to gather up the food for Arthur's supper.

"Arthur's meal," Merlin explained shortly as yet another bread roll escaped the tray in his attempt to reach the strawberries. Merlin cursed and set the tray down in order to fetch the runaway food items.

Maggie watched as Prince Arthur's manservant examined the dirty rolls, shrugged, and dusted them off with his hand before setting it back on the tray. "Merlin!" she gasped, peering around in case Audrey, the head cook, was lurking nearby.

"What?" Merlin protested. "A little dirt never hurt anyone."

"Merlin, that's 'orrible," she said. "You're goin' to get yourself in trouble one o' these days."

"You mean like today?" Merlin asked as he turned to leave.

Maggie winced but bustled after him as he bolted for the door. "But Merlin! Someone's already taken the prince 'is food!" she called.

Merlin's quick pace slowed to a dead halt.

"What?" he asked with confusion, turning to face her.

"His 'ighness sent for his supper over an hour ago!" she explained quickly. "While you were still in the stocks."

Merlin groaned. "You mean I was in rush for nothing?" he complained. He could have taken proper bath instead of using the rather horrible washing spell he hadn't quite perfected. His skin was itching awfully in the places where the soap hadn't been completely rinsed, and it had done nothing to rid him of the tomato seeds plastered to his hair.

Maggie hesitated. "I'm sure he'd like to see you anyways!" she finally said encouragingly.

Merlin rolled his eyes.

"Right then," he finally conceded. "I'll pop in and see if his royal highness needs anything, shall I?"

Maggie nodded after him, but didn't realize until after he'd gone that he'd never actually put back the food.

O o O

Merlin left Arthur's tray in an abandoned room, finishing off the last of the strawberries as he walked out of the chamber. He'd bring it to the kitchens later. Maybe.

He had to admit that the meat pies had been rather good. Audrey must have divvied out their preparation to Charles. The head cook was exceptionally skilled at giving orders, but when it came to actually putting ingredients together... she might as well have let _Arthur_ do it. Charles on the other hand, now there was someone Merlin could culinarily root for.

Content for the first time that day (despite his aching muscles), Merlin sauntered through the darkening courtyard and into the lower town.

It was time to find Lancelot.

O o O

"Can I help you?" the bartender growled from behind Merlin, making him jump. The man seemed to be in the middle of vigorously scrubbing away at the suspicious stains decorating his counter; his efforts appeared to be in vain.

"Um... possibly," Merlin said, trying to stay cheerful. "I'm looking for someone who might be staying at your inn."

The balding man frowned, then waved his filthy rag with a dismissive growl. "Find 'im yourself, laddie."

Merlin sighed and reached into his pouch, pulling out a couple of bronze coins. "I'm looking for a man named Lancelot – tallish, dark hair... good with a sword?" he inquired, holding up the money so the bartender could see them.

The bartender, while eying the coins, recounted, "If you mean that strange fellow, the one who had some funny ideas about being a knight-"

"That's him!" Merlin exclaimed, setting the coins on the counter. "Where is he now?"

Bartender gestured behind him, towards the stairs leading up to the rooms. "Up there," he said, grabbing at the money. "Third door on your left."

"Thank you," Merlin said, before angling his way around the stools, drunkards, and off-duty guards.

After the stairs, he rounded the corner of the hallway and muttered, "Third door, third door, third door," until he reached it.

With a tentative amount of hesitation, Merlin thumped his knuckles against the coarse wood.

He heard a mattress shifting as someone rose from their position and their light steps as they moved towards the door.

Merlin stepped back slightly as the door was pulled open.

"Yes?"

Merlin stared at the outline of Lancelot, candlelight flickering in the background.

"Hello," Merlin said softly, a quiet smile decorating his face.

Lancelot opened the door more widely. His sword was hanging loosely at his hip, ready to be used if necessary.

"Can I help you?" Lancelot asked politely.

"Are you Lancelot?" Merlin asked.

"Yes," the man said carefully.

"My name is Merlin," the warlock introduced, holding out his hand. He grinned as Lancelot shook it warily, as though not sure what to make of the tired, friendly face in front of him. (Were those _tomato seeds_ in his hair?)

"I heard that you're good with a sword," Merlin said.

Lancelot shifted, looking slightly uncomfortable. "I might be," he said, sounding regretful.

Merlin sent him a sympathetic look. "Yes, I heard you were looking to be a knight," he said. "Found out about the first code the hard way, huh?"

"Something like that," Lancelot said carefully.

"Well, if you're still interested, I think I can get you a job," Merlin offered. "And not as a hired sword."

Lancelot blinked.

"Really?"

"Probably," Merlin said with a smile.

Lancelot hesitated for a moment before standing back and gesturing. "Come in?"

Merlin nodded and moved past Lancelot into the better-lit room, smoky from all the candles.

Of the four beds in the room, only one was in apparent use, with Lancelot's personal items tucked neatly against the wall. He didn't have much, just a traveling pack and the leftovers of a meal he'd brought up to enjoy in peace.

"Here," Lancelot offered the bed as a seat.

"Thanks," Merlin said, immediately taking advantage of the offer. The dry hay crackled under his weight. Lancelot took one of the unoccupied beds, giving Merlin a considering look.

"If I may ask, why would you be interested in finding me a job?" Lancelot finally questioned, then pinched his lips together as he waited for an answer.

_Because you deserve it_. "Because you're not only good with a sword, I think that time will show that you're an honest and loyal man," Merlin answered with an encouraging smile.

Lancelot lifted his head. "I certainly hope that I'll be able to live up to your expectations," he said austerely.

"I have no doubt that you'll exceed expectations," Merlin said encouragingly.

"So," the knight began when Merlin didn't elaborate further, "what job _do_ you have in mind?"

"Something a bit less prestigious than knighthood," Merlin said, "but I think it'll do for now."

Lancelot looked slightly skeptical.

"Guardsman," Merlin finally announced.

Lancelot blinked. "Of the citadel?" he asked, clearly surprised.

"Or wherever else they station you," Merlin said cheerfully.

Lancelot stared at him for a moment.

After letting the idea settle in Lancelot's head for a while, Merlin pointed out, "It won't have the privileges of being a noble, and you won't get to leave the city as often, but at least you'll have a steady income and secure lodgings."

"Are you a guard?" Lancelot asked hesitantly, taking in Merlin's thin frame.

Merlin blinked at his friend. "Me? A guard?" he asked, his eye twitching at the idea.

"I take it, then, that you're not," Lancelot said, chuckling slightly at Merlin's disturbed expression.

"I'm far too unconventional to ever make the guard," Merlin said promptly.

"And a commoner who's crazy enough to want to be a knight isn't?" Lancelot pointed out.

Merlin grinned. "A different kind of unconventional."

Lancelot shook his head in amusement. "So you aren't in the guard. What _do_ you do?"

"I'm Prince Arthur's personal advisor-attendant-bodyguard," Merlin said. "I also clean his socks."

Lancelot raised his eyebrows.

"Arthur has really stinky laundry," Merlin continued after a moment, wrinkling his nose.

"You're his servant?" Lancelot finally deciphered incredulously. "The _crown_ _prince's_ servant?"

Merlin grinned. "Yep… though sometimes I feel like his babysitter," he said with a small sigh.

"And you're offering to get _me_ into the guards," Lancelot said, still staring at Merlin with a newfound respect.

"What?" Merlin asked. "Is it a crime to actually want a competent guard watching over the city?"

Lancelot sent him a confused look. "Camelot's guards are proficient… aren't they?" he asked.

"You'd think, wouldn't you, considering the castle's reputation," Merlin said. "But in all honesty, you could probably walk through the gates in a billowy, red cloak without them noticing; in fact, it's been done before."

"Surely they aren't so ineffectual," Lancelot said skeptically.

"They have their moments," Merlin said generously. "… But really, if a barrel is rolling down the street, don't leave your post to follow it. If you have to, _at least _leave someone behind to watch the gate."

Lancelot let out an awkward laugh. "That was oddly specific," he noted.

"It's good advice," Merlin insisted.

Lancelot raised his eyebrows.

"Look," Merlin said, "it probably sounds mad, but I really would like it if you stayed in Camelot. Letting you go back to your old lifestyle seems like a hell of a waste."

He stared at Lancelot with wide, hopeful eyes.

The man stared back at Merlin for a second before running his hands through his hair. "Sounds like a plan," he relented. "After all, what have I got to lose?"

Merlin grinned and jumped off the bed. "That's the spirit!" he said, slapping Lancelot on the back. The man smile back weakly. "Have you got enough money for a couple more days?" he asked.

"For a week, if need be," Lancelot said.

"Excellent," Merlin said moving around the beds and towards the door. "Enjoy yourself. I'll come by sometime later."

"What if I'm not here?" Lancelot asked.

Merlin paused before exiting.

"I'll find you," he said confidently, then closed the door behind him.

Lancelot took a deep breath, a pensive expression on his face. His journey hadn't been completely in vain, then.

A guardsmen.

Perhaps once the nobles saw his skill and determination, they'd be willing to-

He jumped as the door crashed open again, with Merlin hanging into the room. "I am _so_ glad I met you, by the way," the skinny man said with so much sincerity that Lancelot found himself choking on any words he might have thought to say.

"Anyways," Merlin said. "See you!"

Lancelot raised his hand to give and awkward wave, but Merlin had already shut the door.

O o O

"Someone found the dead griffon," Gaius informed Merlin as soon as he entered the room. "No one suspects that any magic was used."

Merlin sent the physician a sad smile. "I made sure of that," he said before shutting the door to his room.

The carcass had been found impaled by multiple spears and arrows.

Sometimes he rather detested his job.

O o O

"Where were you last night?" Arthur complained grouchily, throwing off his bedcovers. If it were up to him, early mornings would be eradicated.

"Recovering," Merlin said audaciously, sounding significantly more chipper than he had the day before, even if he didn't look it with the drooping limbs and sunken eyes.

Arthur snorted. "Ah, the usual then. Shirking your duties…"

"_I was in the stocks_!"

"As I said, Merlin, _shirking your duties_," Arthur reemphasized.

"Next time I'll just let myself out a bit early, shall I? Bribe the guards maybe?" Merlin scoffed, throwing a shirt at Arthur's face. The prince caught it deftly, but one of the sleeves managed to elude him and ended up smacking his cheek. Merlin counted the hit as a victory.

"No. Next time, I expect you to keep yourself out of the stocks in the first place," Arthur countered, flipping the shirt upside-down, right-side up, then upside-down again as he attempted to discover the easiest point of access.

Merlin's interest was piqued. "How did your knights take it?" he asked, wide-eyed.

"Well as can be expected – they aren't very happy with their squires… or with _you_, for that matter," Arthur said, the shirt muffling his voice. "If I were you, I would keep my sorry hide away from them to avoid further incidents." The prince tried awkwardly tugging at his shirt in an attempt to find the escape-route for his head, but he'd gotten caught in one of his sleeves.

"_Merlin_!" Arthur gasped in frustration. "Get over here!"

Merlin stifled his laughter as he jumped to help the prince untangle himself.

By the time Arthur and his shirt had properly separated, the prince had become an unhealthy shade of red (trouncing even the sunburns he'd gained from the past couple days of cloudless skies).

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur grumbled.

"I didn't say anything," Merlin said innocently.

"But your thoughts were loud and clear," Arthur snapped.

"Sorry, sire," Merlin apologized, but once again, his face betrayed him.

"Shut up, Merlin."

Arthur plopped himself miserably in front of his breakfast.

"Have you come up with a solution for Drest's petition yet?" Merlin piped up, deciding that a change of subject was needed. What better topic than a dull case of politics to take your mind off an embarrassing moment?

Arthur made a face. "How could you _possibly_ know about that?" he asked, turning his head to stare at his manservant.

Merlin gave him a bland look. "How do I know about anything?" he countered.

"I don't know, but however you do it, it's probably illegal," Arthur said with a snort. The prince turned his attention back on his eggs, completely missing Merlin's unmistakable flash of panic.

Merlin scolded himself and forced his tense limbs to relax.

"And no," Arthur continued, "I don't have a solution. I only just got the information last night, remember?"

"Have you talked to Drest yet?" Merlin asked.

"Like I said, Merlin, _last night_," the prince emphasized. "I haven't even had time to _think_ about it, much less speak with anyone. My father doesn't expect me to make a ruling until tomorrow."

"Just as long as you don't alienate Lord Oswin…" Merlin said wisely.

"_Mer_lin!" Arthur snapped. "Can we talk about this later? I'm eating breakfast."

Merlin sniffed.

"Oh, but there is something I'd like to discuss with you," Arthur said, suddenly looking perky. "Since you got yourself put in the stocks, we didn't get to have our competition…"

Merlin sighed obnoxiously as he could manage.

O o O

The late afternoon sun disappeared behind another shock of clouds, giving the foursome a small amount of relief from its rays. Both Merlin and Arthur were still suffering from sunburns and neither of them were keen on adding to their misery.

"All right, Merlin," Arthur said, giving his manservant a feral grin. He spun the sword in his hand. "Ready?"

"No," Merlin replied sulkily – the leather padding was making him itchy.

"Too bad," Arthur said mercilessly. "Morgana?"

Morgana fiddled with the small hourglass. "Merlin, just try your best," she encouraged sympathetically.

Arthur rolled his eyes. Morgana had already convinced him to reduce Merlin's losing punishment to two weeks instead of a whole month. What was it about their relationship that made Morgana automatically root for the opposing team?

Gwen stood in the background, biting her lip. Even though Merlin was insistent that he had recovered from Nimueh's attack, there were still deep circles under his eyes that made her nervous.

"Say when," Arthur said with a smirk, holding out his sword. He obviously intended to disarm Merlin as soon as the hourglass was turned. Merlin sighed and unsheathed his own sword.

Morgana poised to turn the timer. "Ready... Set... Go!"

It didn't last more than ten seconds.

One second Arthur was confidently charging towards his manservant, and the next he was staring up at the sky, watching a flock of geese pass overhead.

Gwen's eye widened. Morgana's jaw had dropped open and she was staring down at Arthur with undisguised glee.

Merlin stood over Arthur, his eyes bloodshot, and posture back in a slump. "There," he said in an oddly satisfied tone, and threw down his sword. "No more stables and no clearing tables," he sang, sounding slightly off-kilter.

Arthur gave him a bewildered look. Merlin laughed slightly.

From the grass a few feet away from the warlock, the prone figure pushed himself to his elbows. "What. Just. Happened?" Arthur asked.

Morgana gave him a cool look. "Face it Arthur," she sniffed. "You're no longer Camelot's greatest warrior. You've been outmatched by a servant."

Arthur turned his head to look at Merlin's relaxed form. He crinkled his nose in disbelief. "He must have cheated!" he instantly decided.

Gwen choked.

"Are you all right?" Morgana asked with concern, turning to her maidservant.

Gwen stifled her coughing fit and hastily reassured her mistress. "I'm fine," she said, glancing at Merlin out of the corner of her eye. _Cheating_, her mind echoed.

"And really, Arthur?" Morgana scoffed. "Gwen and I both saw you. Merlin beat you fair and square."

Arthur clenched his jaw, but really couldn't deny that he hadn't seen Merlin do anything contrary to the contest's rules.

"No stables for a month, remember?" Merlin repeated his reminder.

Arthur looked away, up at the sky, and muttered something indistinguishable.

Morgana put a hand on Merlin's shoulder, sending unwanted warning tingles up his spine. "Well done, Merlin!" she congratulated, smiling up at him.

Merlin bent over to retrieve his sword, if only to shake Morgana's grip. "It was nothing," he said, trying not to flinch.

_This is not her. This is not her. This is not her_, he chanted inside his head. But it really was no use. Every smirk, sneer, and hint of anger on her part was still all it took for Merlin's magic to go into protective overdrive.

She'd sent many innocent people to their deaths.

Morgan le Fay.

_This is not her_, he chanted once again, annoyed with himself.

"Of course it was something," Morgana insisted, blind to his discomfort. "In all my years, I've never seen anyone make Arthur look so utterly defeated."

"I think Uther could probably give me a run for my money," Merlin said thoughtfully.

Morgana wrinkled her nose. "Uther? He may have been a warrior in his prime, but I'm fairly certain that Arthur, if he ever had the guts, could disarm him easily enough," she countered.

The prince turned to give his perceptive manservant a startled look. Merlin winced, glad that Morgana hadn't picked up on the subtle meaning behind the comment. Gwen had. She was biting her lip and emanating reluctant waves of sympathy in Arthur's direction. She'd seen her fair share of bitter moments between father and son, most of them ending with an enraged Uther and an embarrassed Arthur.

"Besides," Arthur said awkwardly, trying to get rid of the tension, "that was only round one."

Merlin balked. "We're not doing that again," he said firmly, as Arthur pushed himself into a sitting position.

"You may not have cheated, but you have to admit that during all our practices, you _have_ been holding back," Arthur argued. "You know all my strengths and weaknesses, but you haven't let me see any of yours."

"Just assume you can't beat me in any sort of fight," Merlin said stiffly.

"That's ridiculous," Arthur scoffed. "Just a few days ago you were insisting that you only fight well under pressure."

"Well, Arthur, I lied," Merlin said bluntly.

Arthur laughed in disbelief.

"I told you before," Merlin said. "Just because I'm good at killing people, doesn't mean I have to like it."

Arthur folded his arms.

"Your perspective's all wrong," Arthur said crossly. "As warriors, we hone those skills so we can defend this land, not so we can 'kill people.'"

"Actually, I mostly don't want to see you to continue to humiliate yourself," Merlin said, changing tactics.

"All right, get in position," Arthur said, gesturing for Merlin to stand in front of him. "We're doing this again."

"No."

"Are you refusing an order?" Arthur asked.

"Wouldn't be the first time, milord," Merlin said dully.

"I should sack you," Arthur said.

"You'd get bored," Merlin pointed out.

"Or bit of relief," Arthur countered. "Now hand me my sword."

Merlin groaned, but complied with the prince's wishes. How long many times would it take, he wondered, for Arthur to see that Merlin couldn't be beaten? Or should he let Arthur win?

"Here you are, sire," Merlin said with mocking bow, offering Arthur the sword that had been knocked from his grasp.

Arthur grabbed it away from his manservant.

Merlin bent over to pick up his own sword. He caught Gwen's eyes and sent her a reassuring look. She seemed oddly worried. Perhaps she was worried that Merlin's lack of subtleness would reveal his secret. Morgana, on the other hand, was all for seeing Arthur taken down again and already had the hourglass ready to be turned.

"Ready?" Arthur began. Merlin barely had time to get his sword up before Arthur shouted, "GO!"

In eleven seconds, Merlin had Arthur kneeling on the ground with both swords pointed at his royal throat.

"Would you like to go again?" Merlin asked. "I might actually start to enjoy this."

Frustrated, Arthur whacked away the swords with his gauntlets and stood on his feet.

Despite Merlin's teasing, Arthur demanded a third and a fourth match.

"You're beating me," he said with disbelief, finding himself relieved of his weapon yet again.

"Yes, I am," Merlin agreed, lowering both swords. In the background, Morgana was grinning widely and Gwen was trying not to giggle.

"But you can't!" Arthur said, examining Merlin through narrowed eyes.

"Why not?" Merlin demanded. "Why can't I be better at you in something?"

Prince Arthur threw his hand in the air. "Because you've had very little training, for one thing," he listed. "And two, you're the clumsiest person I know. And three, you _can't_ have hidden this from me for over two months!"

Merlin recognized that he may have overstepped the limits of his disguise as 'the manservant'. Maybe he really should let Arthur win.

"Let's see again," Arthur said, gesturing for Merlin to give him back his sword.

Merlin sighed.

By the eighth time, Merlin was leaning against his sword, staring down at Arthur with an amused expression that could match Morgana's. He really probably should have let Arthur beat him.

"I don't understand!" Arthur said in frustration, almost to himself. He peeled himself off the grass and stood up, grabbing his sword from under Merlin's foot in the process.

"I think you should try one more time, Arthur," Morgana suggested, eyes wide with innocence.

Arthur ignored her and went through the motions of their last fight, thrusting, parrying, then trying to figure out how Merlin had managed to get him on the ground. The prince growled, moved back to the starting position, but the second time switching to Merlin's side of the duel.

"You moved like this," Arthur said, back up and holding his sword as though he were defending from an oncoming attack. "Then like this, but then you..." he tried several positions, but none of them seemed right. Finally he put his foot out, which would have resulted in completely unbalancing his opponent's stance.

"But you couldn't have done that unless you were able to predict my next move," Arthur complained.

_Or see them in slow motion_, Merlin thought.

"Nope, that's what I did," Merlin said, nodding at Arthur's position.

Arthur shot Merlin a look. "No one is that good."

"Well apparently, somebody is," Morgana interrupted. "Good job, Merlin," she said, giving him a wry smile. Merlin managed to offer her a small nod of appreciation.

Then he turned to Gwen, saw her narrowed eyes, and offered her a self-satisfied grin.

Gwen sighed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

"Cheer up, Arthur," Merlin said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "It's not like anything's going to come of it. I _am_ a commoner, after all – a mere peasant, a scruffy farm-boy, a servant, a _mistreated_ servant..."

"All right, that's enough of that," Arthur snapped, sticking his sword in the ground in a huff of emotion.

"Well, now that you know, what are you going to do with me?" Merlin asked.

"Nothing," Arthur said firmly.

"Nothing?" Merlin and Morgana chorused. Morgana sounded irate. Merlin, in the other hand, felt slightly befuddled; Arthur had been so adamant about determining Merlin's skill level that Merlin had figured that Arthur had found a use for his supposed 'talent'.

"Absolutely nothing. Like you said, you're just a simpleminded peasant," Arthur said loftily. "I wouldn't want to burden you with any unnecessary responsibility."

"Thank you, sire," Merlin said dryly. "I still get a month off of stable-duty, right?"

"But, Arthur!" Morgana protested. "Merlin's the best there is – you can't just go and do _nothing_."

Arthur scowled. "Well what do you want me to do, Morgana? Knight him, I suppose?"

"Please, don't," Merlin entreated.

Arthur ignored him. "Merlin," he continued, his eyes hard, "is just a _peasant_. Not to mention, he's lazy, undisciplined, cowardly, and certainly someone I would _never_ want in my ranks."

Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin saw that Gwen was bristling, giving Arthur a look that could melt the chain mail right off his royal person. Merlin internally noted that he would have to reassure her later. After all, Arthur really hadn't known Merlin all that long, and he'd been practically humiliated by him, so the insults really weren't surprising.

"I highly doubt he's as incapable as you make him out to be," Morgana defended, arguing back. "He obviously deserves something better than licking the dirt off your royal boots for the rest of his life."

"It's his job!" Arthur snapped.

"He's wasted there," Morgana insisted, eyes flashing dangerously. "I have half a mind to go to Sir Eustace and have him sign Merlin up for a position in the king's guard. He's already proven to be a loyal servant, and once Uther sees his skills with the sword I'm sure he could be persuaded."

Arthur and Merlin both gaped at her before guffawing loudly.

"You obviously don't know Father very well," Arthur snorted.

Morgana sniffed with indignant confusion.

"He thinks I'm brainless, a complete klutz, and a danger to sit near," Merlin clarified.

"That's because you are," Arthur drawled, pouncing on the opportunity to insult Merlin.

"Be serious, Arthur. Imagine the conversation," Merlin said, spreading his arms wide as if to unveil a painting. "'We'd like to recommend Merlin for your personal guard.'"

Arthur's eyes lit up.

"'He'll be the first line of defense,'" Merlin continued, imitating Sir Eustace's snooty voice.

"'…Dumping pitchers of water on any intruders that try to make it past the west wing,'" Arthur finished the thought, sending Merlin a challenging grin.

"'Tripping into assassins,'" Merlin suggested, laughing delightedly.

"'And his lectures can leave anyone comatose.'"

"Shut up, Arthur."

"That's 'Sire,' to you, Merlin."

Merlin made a face. "You want me to say, 'Shut up, sire?'" he inquired with amusement. "That sounds disrespectful."

"He's also an arrogant little twit," Arthur said loudly. "He can annoy anyone to death."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "And he'll be swiping food from your tray to test it for poison," he added. "See? I'm doing you a service by stealing your food," Merlin said with a nod.

"Food tasters aren't supposed to eat half the tray, _Mer_lin," Arthur reproved.

"I'm saving you from gout," Merlin said haughtily. "Besides, you're fat enough as it is."

"What did you call me?" Arthur demanded.

"You heard me," Merlin said, dancing away as Arthur took a swipe at his head.

Morgana felt strangely sad as she watched their bickering turn into playful wrestling. It seemed that the boy she'd grown up with no longer needed her as a confidant. As much as the prince complained about his manservant, he was becoming uncharacteristically attached to him. The real reason why Arthur wouldn't let Merlin be assigned to any other position was now very apparent.

Rolling her eyes as Merlin landed with a yelp on the grass, Morgana turned and said haughtily, "Let's go, Gwen. It seems that all form of reason has vanished."

Gwen laughed and gathered her skirts to follow the taller woman.

"They are an unusual pair, milady," she said wistfully, watching their interactions fondly.

"Obnoxious is more like it," was all Morgana said as she strode towards the castle entrance.

Gwen hurried after her mistress as they left the field, but not before giving Merlin parting glance. He waved, but his attention was immediately drawn back to Arthur, who was attempting to drag him into a chokehold.

O o O

Merlin was mystified that he had managed to make it through an entire day without incident (Arthur's challenge didn't count because Merlin had won). He'd even passed Sir Borin in the armory, but the man had barely acknowledged him with a scowl.

Now all he had to do was convince Arthur that he was tired enough to go to bed early.

"…I can't _believe_ Father won't allow me to provide more aid. What am I supposed to tell Drest?" Arthur continued his lamentations as Merlin shut the curtains for the evening.

"The truth," Merlin said simply.

"Because of that raid, a third of his village starved to death over the winter," Arthur said intensely. His frustration was being taking out on his dining table, as he used his hunting knife to carve small notches along the edge. "If his village isn't sent enough seed before planting season is over, their harvests won't be enough to carry them through _this_ winter. How _can_ I tell a man that his village is doomed?"

Merlin sighed. "Are you certain that Lord Oswin can't be persuaded to send more supplies?" he asked.

"Positive," Arthur said, cutting another sliver of wood out his tabletop. "Apparently after a tax fraud that happened about five years ago, the man's been suspicious of everything they do. If it weren't for all of the evidence supporting the raid, he would have accused them of faking it. And after his first shipment of aid went 'missing', he never bothered to send any more, believing that the village had procured and hidden it so they could demand for more food."

Merlin pressed his lips together. Actually, he wouldn't have been all that surprised if that was exactly what had happened – Uther had probably realized it as well, which would explain why the king was critical of sending the amount of grain they'd claimed to need. Not many village farmers had much reason to be more loyal to the kingdom than to the village they expected to live and die in. Merlin could see a village leader, not familiar with nobility and politics, convincing the rest of his people to help con their 'local protector' (or 'tax collector') into giving them more food. Undoubtedly Drest's people thought that the meager first delivery was the _only_ delivery, and had taken the actions they believed necessary for their survival. They wouldn't have understood that, unlike during the early, famine-ridden years of Uther's reign, the current prosperity put nobles into a more generous mood and that Sir Oswin would have been willing to help them until they could support themselves. The elders of the village would be too used to viewing nobles as an enemy with whom they had an uneasy truce.

But he wanted Arthur to go to bed, not drag him into an hour-long discussion of rural ethics. They could do that in the morning, after Merlin had gotten a full night's rest.

"Why don't you sleep on it?" Merlin suggested.

Arthur scowled. "Oh, brilliant advice!" he exclaimed, stabbing the table.

Merlin winced. The prince was going to complain about all of the pockmarks later when he used the table to write a report. "I'll try to think of something as well," Merlin tried to sound reassuring as he stared helplessly at the wooden splinters decorating the floor.

"Joy of joys," Arthur said disgustedly.

"Even if we can't convince your father to increase the supplies, there are subtle ways to help Drest's village without having to go to the king about it," Merlin said patiently.

"Like what?" Arthur asked suspiciously.

"Your hunting trips, for instance," Merlin began. "Instead of bringing home meat you don't even need, give it to the village instead."

Arthur frowned pensively, tapping the knife's blade against the table.

"It isn't much, but when you're as poor as they are, you'll take all the help you can get," Merlin said.

Arthur snorted. "I suppose you'd know, wouldn't you?" he said.

Merlin sent him an exasperated look.

Arthur set his knife on the table (missing Merlin's sigh of relief) and stood up, looking expectant. "Very well, then. Since I'll be going to bed early, I expect you to have all of your chores done by the time I wake up. I need my armor polished, my boots cleaned, my dogs walked…"

Merlin resisted the temptation to cut him off with a sleep spell.

Barely.


	20. Interlude

**Disclaimer: I don't own_ Merlin._**

A/N: I'll warn you right now that I'm not sure how long it will be until the next chapter is posted, which is why the story is now on hiatus (that's a warning for anyone new that I take forever to post chapters - read at your own risk). To those of you who have kept with me through all of this - thank you!

And if anyone becomes exceedingly frustrated and just wants the story _done_ ("For crying out loud, she's taking forever!"), feel free to finish it or start your own version. Seriously. Surely I'm not the only person who's wanted to write fanfiction of fanfiction?

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><p>"Break it down," King Arthur's voice was cold.<p>

The young sorcerer rubbed his palms together nervously. "I-I'll try," he finally conceded, and placed both of his sweaty hands against the cool wood of the door. He forced his anxious nerves to calm, trying to ignore the eyes of the varying nobility as they followed his every move. As a lowly citadel guard, he had never been privileged to enjoy such an attentive audience before, nor such an important one. But as determined as he was to impress them, this was _Lord Merlin_'s study. Who knew what powerful magic the court sorcerer used to protect his inner sanctum?

The despondent thought cost him.

"Well?" the king snapped.

"Calm down, princess," one of the knights said (_Sir Gwaine_, the young man reminded himself), slapping the king's back. The gesture was playful, but the cheerfulness failed to light the man's eyes as he reassured the king.

With renewed effort, the young guard narrowed his eyes and stared at the door. "_Tóspringe_!" he commanded. There was a visible pulse of magic that slammed against the door, but nothing more happened.

The king pounded his fist against the wall in frustration.

"Again!" he ordered.

The young guard licked his lips. "_Tóspringe_!"

Another shudder.

"_Tóspringe_!"

Still the door held.

"_Tóspringe_!"

"Again!" Kind Arthur ordered. He sounded a little hoarse.

"_Tóspringe_! _Tóspringe_! _Tóspringe_!"

A hand on his shoulder stopped the guard from releasing another spell. "That's enough," the knight named Sir Leon said. His voice was hard, but his eyes were gentle. "Thank you, Cordan."

The sorcerer slumped, his hands dropping from the door. "I'm sorry, my lord," he said, too miserable to realize that _the_ Sir Leon had remembered his name.

King Arthur looked mollified for a moment. "It's not your fault," he said, looking as glum as Cordan felt.

"_Eeaaurgh!_ Merlin!"

Cordan jumped in fear as the king roared past him and unleashed his frustration on the door, kicking it and pounding it with his fists. The door rattled on its hinges (but then again, the small battering ram had done much of the same thing). "Merlin! Open the door! Open the door, you... you idiot!" King Arthur's voice started to crack as he pounded.

Sir Leon and Sir Gwaine, after recovering from their surprise, quickly moved in and grabbed the king by his wrists. King Arthur struggled, and Cordan narrowly avoided being knocked into the wall by jumping to the side.

"Arthur!" Sir Gwaine shouted into the king's ear. "You need to stay calm, sire."

Arthur straightened, his wrists dropping to his sides, but his entire frame was trembling. "He's in there, Gwaine. He's probably unconscious or…" he shook his head vigorously of the unthinkable. "Stupid idiot. Him and his confounded book."

He kicked the door again, but it was less violent and more of a miserable swipe.

"Remember when he was down there for almost a week?" Gwaine said in a reassuring, overly-optimistic tone. "It's only been two and a half days. I bet he's down there grumbling at us for distracting him and ruining a spell or something equally as ridiculous."

Arthur sent Gwaine a disbelieving grimace. "He's never locked his door for longer than a few hours," he snapped.

Gwaine grinned roguishly. "Always the sour-puss," he teased, but there was an uneasy glint in his eyes.

The king paced uneasily as they waited for more adept sorcerers to arrive. "A habit he picked up from Merlin," Cordan heard one of the knights mutter.

Cordan didn't know much about Lord Merlin other than what everyone else knew. The only time he ever saw the court sorcerer was in a public gathering, or maybe as he scampered through the hallways, officially robes billowing haphazardly behind him. "He used to be a servant, you know," his mother, who worked in the laundry rooms, had informed him one day. Cordan believed her, but still couldn't picture it, in much the same way he had troubling imagining the purge. The idea of not being able to use magic just seemed nonsensical to him.

Of everything he ever heard about the court sorcerer however, everyone seemed to agree on one thing:

"Him and the king are inseparable, they are."

"King Arthur uses far too many of our precious resources to accommodate that insufferable sorcerer of his."

"Lord Merlin? Oh, he's the king's best friend."

"Merlin's nearly died several times for the king."

"They might as well be brothers."

Or the whispers: "I hear tell that they're _lovers_."

Cordan doubted the last one. Both men were married, and even if he'd never seen Merlin's wife (a fairy goddess, they said), he saw how the king acted with Queen Guinevere; no one who was having affair ever treated their wife like _that_. Sometimes it actually made Cordan feel uncomfortable to watch the king and queen at banquets. Their hair was too gray to condone their teenager-like flirtations.

Either way, Lord Merlin and the king were obviously very close.

"They're here! Arthur, they're here!"

The king's agitated pacing immediately stopped and he stepped into the hallway to get a better look at who was coming down the hall.

"Iseldir!" the relief in King Arthur's voice was palpable. "Delphinus!"

Cordan craned his head to see the new arrivals. The first things he noted were their long, green robes that immediately identified them as druids. The older of the two men was being supported by a crooked walking stick. On his other side was a young man that looked similar enough to be related – at least their piercing eyes were the same.

"Can you open it?" King Arthur asked impatiently as he walked them to the door. "Iseldir?"

"I won't know until I examine it," the old man said mildly.

The king grimaced and made an impatient clicking sound with his teeth. Cordan thought it was awfully impertinent of him, even if he was the king.

But the druid called Iseldir ignored the fidgeting king and didn't award him with the death glare as Cordan had expected him to. Instead he handed the younger druid his walking stick, who reverently stepped back as the older man leaned forward to place his palms against the door, much like Cordan had done. Instead of speaking a spell, however, he inclined his head and pressed his ear against the door. No one breathed as Iseldir closed his eyes, watching him as he listened to the magic of Merlin's door.

After what seemed to be hours of standing stiffly as columns, Iseldir finally lifted his head from the door.

"Iseldir?" the king inquired, sounding like a small child.

"It is doable," the druid said. The anxiety of the group seemed to deflate at his words. "But we will need help. Boy?"

Cordan blinked and released that for the second time that day, everyone's gazes were focused on him.

"Are you trained in the words of magic?" the man asked intently.

Cordan nodded shakily. "Y-yes, my lord."

"Just 'Iseldir' will do," the man said, the corners of his eyes crinkling in vague amusement.

Cordan nodded, heat rising in his cheeks.

"You will do as we do, and say these words with us," Iseldir instructed. "_Ic ábiddee for gecierrednes_." He said it slowly so Cordan could follow. Cordan had never heard that particular spell before (that wasn't very surprising) but he recognized the individual words. Instead of forcing the door open, they were going to ask it for permission.

"_Ic ábiddee for gicierrendnes_," Cordan repeated slowly.

"_Gecierrednes_," Iseldir corrected kindly.

"_Gecierrednes,_" Cordan repeated dutifully.

"Say all the words once more," Iseldir said.

"_Ic ábiddee for gecierrednes_," Cordan said, feeling bold. Then he repeated them again for good measure, "_Ic ábiddee for gecierrednes_."

"Good," Iseldir approved, giving the young sorcerer-guard a nod. Cordan stood straighter, feeling as though he'd been given highest praise.

All three sorcerers positioned themselves in front of the impenetrable door, with Cordan standing anxiously in the middle. He carefully watched Iseldir and Delphinus as they placed their right hands palm-down on the door. Their left hands were positioned inches away from the wood, with only the fingertips barely brushing the surface.

"Spread your fingers more," Delphinus instructed softly, flexing his right hand. Coradn immediately separated his fingers, not knowing why it was important. Neither druid took the time to explain.

"Say the words as we do," Iseldir enjoined. Cordan nodded.

"_Ic_—," Iseldir and Delphinus began and Cordan hastened his voice so that it would match theirs. "_—ábiddee for gecierrednes_."

There was a moment where nothing happened; Cordan despaired as he couldn't even feel the door responding to the magic. Then there was a click.

To the people with no magic, it looked as though the door had simply creaked open, but Cordan held felt the magic of Lord Merlin's protections writhing under his palms. It was as though a thousand deadbolts were being opened at once, all under the scrutiny of a watchful dragon waiting to gobble up the first intruder who didn't meet its requirements.

Cordan gulped.

Even though King Arthur was the first to move for the opening, Sir Gwaine (being closer) managed to make it through the door before his sovereign. Cordan found himself being herded through the door with the rest of the knights. Somehow the druids managed to slip through without being trampled, as they were already examining their surroundings with Sir Gwaine and the king by the time Cordan managed to find a standing place where he wasn't being jostled.

At first, because of the dim lighting of the room (Lord Merlin's candles – even thought they'd been enchanted to last longer – were at the bottom of their wicks, if not completely melted into a puddle of wax), no one could find Merlin. Then someone gasped and everyone followed their turned head to a corner in the room were a small desk had been dragged through the mess of objects in order to find a clear space to work.

At first, Cordan thought his eyes had stopped working properly because of the low lighting, but slowly he began to realize that he wasn't hallucinating. The court sorcerer wasn't quite there.

"Merlin!" the king let out a strangled yell and pushed ahead of everyone in his rush to get to his friend.

"Do not touch him, Arthur!" Iseldir commanded before the distressed king could grasp his friend's translucent wrist.

King Arthur wrenched back his hand as though he'd been struck by lightning and seemed to collapse inward on himself.

"What's wrong with him?" the tallest knight asked, sounding horrified as he stared at the frozen sorcerer.

"Merlin…" Arthur said softly in the background.

Iseldir shook his head, looking uneasy. Delphinus looked slightly green around his temples.

"But if he's like this, then what are we going to do about-" Sir Gawine began, but he was interrupted by the sharp retort of Sir Leon.

"Not with soft ears listening in."

Cordan reddened when everyone remembered his presence all at once and turned to stare accusingly at him.

He was about to bow and apologize when the king seemed to gather himself together and walk towards the young guard.

"Cordan, was it?" the king asked, peering down his nose with unnervingly blue eyes. He looked tired.

Cordan nodded and managed to stutter, "Y-yes, milord." He bowed awkwardly as an afterthought.

"Tell no one what you have seen," the king commanded. "If any word of this gets out, I will know who told." He sounded grave.

Cordan felt a shiver go down his spine. "Yes, sire," he said in a whisper, bowing once again.

Arthur made a dismissive gesture.

Cordan gave the blurry court sorcerer one last parting glance before scurrying out of the study with as much dignity as he could muster.

When the door closed Arthur immediately turned to Iseldir. "_Any_ idea of what's happened to him?" he pleaded, sounding desperate.

"Without knowing what he was doing…"

"Time travel," Arthur interrupted. "He told us all at the feast three nights ago."

Iseldir blinked. "To attempt such a spell…" he looked at Emrys with a newfound sense of fear. "I would not know where to begin," the druid admitted.

"What of that book of his...? 'Medicus de Galiwhat' or something? And his notes?" Galahad questioned from the back.

"They will take time to decipher," Delphinus said, hovering over Merlin's desk and sounding grave. "Emrys was more knowledgeable in ancient texts, particularly of the magical kind, than any man I know."

"We may need him _now_," Arthur insisted.

"Why?" Iseldir questioned, looking at Arthur sharply.

Arthur sent everyone uneasy looks before saying in a low voice, "Recently, everyone in Camelot has been afflicted with… strange dreams."

"And they're all connected," Gwaine said.

"And they're all of the past, set during the time of Uther," Percival added.

Arthur nodded and looked once again at Iseldir. "People are beginning to notice that their dreams… match," he had trouble explaining.

"It's like the past as we remember it…" Leon trailed off.

"… but it's not exactly the same," Arthur finished.

"Except it was for me," Percival pointed out.

"And me," Galahad added.

"The blue plague!" Leon reached for an example.

Arthur nodded. "I remember dozens of people dying," he said.

"But in the dream…" Leon said.

"…there were only a couple," Arthur finished, nodding. "We're worried that if someone is able to manipulate dreams on such a large scale, who's to say they won't try something worse?"

They all looked to Iseldir, who had been quiet through their rambling explanations.

"I too have been having these dreams," he said slowly, "as have many people in my camp. We were unable to explain the phenomenon, but discovered that the common factor in the differences between reality and the dreams lay with one man."

Everyone followed his gaze to rest their eyes on the frozen figure of Merlin.

Arthur's mouth dropped open slightly before he closed it abruptly.

"Ah, that makes sense," Gwaine said quietly to himself.

Arthur let out a strangled noise in his throat.

"I believe that Emrys must have been close to succeeding in his quest for traveling through time, but something must have prevented him from completing the journey," Iseldir said slowly, but even the druid looked uncertain.

"That would explain his ghostiness," Gwaine said with a nod, waving his hand towards Merlin's semi-solid figure.

"So Merlin's spell has something to do with our dreams?" Leon inquired, narrowing his eyes.

"I do not know," Iseldir said gravely. "I do not know."

A heavy quiet filled the air.

Arthur groaned inwardly and dropped his forehead into his hand, briefly wishing that he hadn't bothered to get out of bed that morning (because at least while he was dreaming, Merlin's idiotic face was there to insult him).

* * *

><p>AN: So basically, a month for Merlin is the equivalent to a day for King Arthur (not Prince Arthur).


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